


The Gift

by chains_archivist



Series: The Gift by Fionnabair and Aeshna [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Boys in Chains, M/M, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Fionnabair </p><p> A nomad is offered an unusual gift at a banquet concluding a successful trade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> Acknowledgements: Thanks to Ruth, Layna, Lilith and Rachael Sabotini, who all dived in with help and comments at varied points and made it a much better piece than I would have thought possible as a result.   
> Disclaimer: Duh, um, they're not mine, but then after what I've done, I think they're not anyone's. They're their own men :)

Qui-Gon Jinn was uncomfortable. He disliked crowds, he disliked buildings and most of all he disliked his host.   
  
But he wasn't here from his own choice, but because necessity dictated that someone had to deal with the town dwellers for trade purposes, and this year, that someone was him.   
  
At the head of the table, his host belched again. A leading member of the merchant's guild, Jabba looked the part, his immense bulk clothed in sumptuous fabrics, the rings that covered his fat hands nearly hidden in folds of flesh. Qui-Gon's nose wrinkled slightly in distaste as he looked at the scantily clad girl who cowered next to her master, trying to conceal her repulsion and terror as he caressed her and occasionally fed her. Slavery was another thing that Qui-Gon's people didn't believe in. They roamed free across the plains with light tents, fast horses and herds that provided their wealth, never settling long in any one place.   
  
Jabba and his ilk were noted for their accumulation of material goods, including human flesh. Qui's hosts debauched tastes were legendary, as were his feasts, and Qui wondered queasily whether he would be subjected to some of Jabba's "entertainments" which were infamous throughout the region.  
  
Briefly he wondered if Jabba had noticed his distaste when the corpulent merchant barked something at his translator, who clapped his hands. From behind the couch when Qui-Gon reclined, a slim figure came forward and knelt in front of the couch, head bent, and proffering a silver bowl full of lightly steaming fragranced water. Hastily he glanced at the other guests, watching them all dip their hands in similar bowls that were being offered, then watched as his host carelessly dried his hands in his kneeling slave's hair.   
  
Jabba grinned at Qui-Gon, a smile without humour or good nature. He said something to his translator.  
  
The translator leered at Qui-Gon. "The mighty Jabba thought this amusing - a body slave indeed?"   
  
Qui-Gon looked down at the slender youth whose eyes were firmly averted. Eye contact, he remembered, was considered aggressive in a slave, and most quickly learnt not to look directly at their masters. As he removed his hands from the bowl, the youth smoothly lowered it and bent his head in closer in an unmistakable gesture.   
  
Qui-Gon glanced across at the merchant. Jabba's jowls were shaking slightly as he avidly watched the nomad's reaction to this invitation. Qui-Gon gazed back at his host, as he lowered his hands to the bristly hair in front of him, and gently caressed the bowed head. Jabba grinned, as though Qui had passed a test, and yanked on the chain attached to the slave girl's collar. She made no resistance as he fondled her body, her face an impassive mask at the public humiliation.   
  
Qui-Gon looked down at the boy who knelt before him. The folded body and the slave's reflex to be inconspicuous couldn't hide that the youth was on the verge of manhood. He gently slid his hand around the boy's face and tilted towards him.   
  
Hazel eyes stared briefly into his own before the boy remembered himself and focused on a distant point behind Qui-Gon's shoulder. The boy's grace was matched by the beauty of his face, thought Qui, who despite himself, discovered he was blatantly admiring the slender lines of the body crouched before him. At least the lad is wearing clothes, he thought, although the deep blue silk of the loose pants and sleeveless top clung to his form, showing what it ostensibly concealed. Silver cuffs adorned the youth's ankles and wrists, and a heavy silver collar, engraved with the letter "J", sat on his delicate collarbone.   
  
J for Jabba, thought Qui idly, feeling a pang for the life this obvious pleasure slave was forced to endure. Everything about the boy indicated that his sole function in Jabba's household was sexual, pleasuring his master or whoever his master chose to gift his body to. A few pleasure slaves became the beloved of their masters, but Qui-Gon knew that Jabba's property was more likely to die during one of their master's "entertainments" or be sold to a brothel. Either way, they did not live long.  
  
He gently stroked the youth's cheek in a gesture of reassurance before deliberately looking away and towards his grinning host. But Jabba was paying less attention to him now, and was clearly more interested in the writhing girl. A quick glance around the room established that an orgy was definitely beginning, as the guests openly fondled their attendants.  
  
Qui-Gon coughed gently and Jabba looked up and grunted again at the translator.  
  
"The hour is getting late and my camp is outside the town walls," commented Qui. "I must thank you for your most gracious hospitality, but I must leave."  
  
Jabba barked an order. A guard grasped the boy by the bicep and led him away. Qui-Gon felt a pang of regret as he watched him leave the room.  
  
"And you nomads never sleep in a town, do you?" Jabba chuckled, through the translator. "Your horse is being prepared."  
  
He shifted his bulk from the dining couch to a sedan chair, impatiently tugging at the chain as the girl hurried to stand beside him, then indicated that he would accompany his guest to the courtyard. Qui-Gon walked slowly beside the chair, listening to the interpreter, as Jabba indicated assorted treasures along the way.  
  
It seemed as though an oppressive burden left the nomad's shoulder when the party reached the courtyard and he saw his horse there, ready saddled. He turned to his host to offer insincere thanks for the banquet when a movement attracted his attention.   
  
The boy was being led out and as Qui watched, long chains were attached to his wrist cuffs and then clipped to the saddle.  
  
Jabba laughed.  
  
"The noble Jabba is pleased with the profitable trade you have concluded and gifts you this slave in gratitude."  
  
Qui opened his mouth in automatic protest then shut it again as he looked at the boy who was trying to hide his fear as he stood next to the horse.   
  
Jabba leaned forward and patted Qui confidentially on the back.  
  
"You will be the first. The lad is a virgin. He's schooled though, and I warrant you'll be doing some hard riding soon." He pointed at the youth's collar. "J for Jinn, eh?"  
  
The merchant guffawed at his own joke as Qui-Gon took formal leave of him and swung into the saddle. As the nomad left the courtyard, looking straight ahead, yet acutely aware of the man chained to his horse, Jabba's laughter seemed to follow him through the streets until he left the town walls behind him.   
  


* * *

  
Outside the town walls, Qui-Gon reined his horse in and looked behind him thoughtfully. The boy had stopped and stood quietly, looking down at the ground as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen in his life. Instinctively, Qui-Gon followed his gaze and noticed bare feet. He was camped a couple of miles away from the town - too far to ask a barefoot slave to walk. 

He reached back and unclipped the chains, then gently tugged on them. 

"Come here," he said, and waited until the youth stood beside his stirrup. Qui-Gon gestured behind him on the saddle. 

The boy looked blankly at him.

"Can you ride?" asked the nomad, before he realised that he probably couldn't be understood. But he was, as the slave shook his head.

Qui-Gon smiled reassuringly. "Well then," he said, easily swinging from the saddle. "Let's help you up."

The boy flinched once when he was touched by the large hands but quickly understood and allowed Qui-Gon to make a stirrup for his knee and give him a leg up into the saddle. He sat stiffly and awkwardly as the older man swung up behind him and reached past him to grasp the reins.

The horse moved on, Qui relaxing in the saddle with the ease born of long familiarity, while the boy sat up straight, his hands resting nervously on the horse's neck. When Qui-Gon urged the horse into a trot the hands clutched at the mane as he was jolted around by the motion.

Taking the reins into one hand, Qui wrapped his arm diagonally across the boy, pulling him back into his chest.

"You'll scare her if you jolt like that. Relax and the ride will be much smoother."

It took a couple of moments for the boy to react then he leaned further into Qui-Gon's body, moulding his spine to the man's chest. One hand continued to hold the horse's mane, but the other sneaked around and braced itself on the horseman's thigh, pulling him deeper into the saddle and closer against Qui-Gon's torso.

Once he was satisfied the youth was suitably secure, Qui-Gon urged the horse into a canter. For the relatively short distance to his tent, pitched beside a small stream, he knew the added weight would not pose a problem for the mare, and he preferred to get back before night finally fell. The evenings were long and mild at this time of year, but blundering around in the dark was never fun.

When he finally arrived at the camp, he helped the boy down off the horse and indicated his tent before leading the horse off. It took some time to untack the animal and settle it for the night, tethered on a long picket line, before he could return. By the time he did, he was ready for bed.

He stripped off his tunic outside and splashed some water over his body, as much to wash away the smell of Jabba's banquet hall as the dirt, then ducked under the flap of the tent, which though small, was tall enough for his considerable height. 

What he saw inside stopped him dead. The boy had carefully taken off his clothes - one part of Qui-Gon's logical mind noticed them folded in a neat pile in the corner - and now knelt nude and submissive at the end of Qui-Gon's sleeping mat. The collar and cuffs that he still wore only served to highlight his graceful body and the curve of his neck. 

Qui-Gon squatted on his haunches, keeping clear space between him and the youth and gently reached out to him, cupping his face and tilting it up. The boy looked straight into his eyes then shut them and rubbed his cheek against Qui's hand in an unmistakably erotic gesture. 

The older man gulped then gently pulled his hand away. 

"Get into bed, lad," he said in a kind tone. "You'll have to share with me, the nights are too cold for either of us to sleep without covers. You can sleep safe here."

He wondered how much the boy really understood, when those striking hazel eyes looked up again and caught his own. So he pointed at the sleeping pad, and the youth obediently climbed onto it, and sat there, looking back at him. 

Qui-Gon leaned over and pushed his shoulder down, indicating the boy should lie down. He turned his back to strip, suddenly aware that he was being intently watched, and feeling shy about his lack of sleep wear. A thought suddenly struck him and he reached for one of the quilts, wrapping it around the boy's body, ensuring that they were not sleeping skin to skin, before doing the same for himself and pulling the remaining covers over them both. He lay down with his back firmly to the youth. He was aware of the boy's gaze on his shoulders before he too lay down and curled up to sleep.

* * *

  
No-one had ever said that Qui-Gon Jinn was a quiet sleeper. Even in tight quarters, those who knew him well gave him a wide berth, preferring, as someone once put it "to wake up warm and without a black eye". Qui-Gon pretended deep offence at this, usually protesting his innocence and his generosity when it came to bedclothes, but knew himself that all too often he awoke cold and sore, having kicked away his bedding and rolled halfway across the room.   
  
This time he wasn't woken by the cold or by the light. Pleasure coursed through his body as he woke and climaxed simultaneously, howling with his orgasm as he drove forward into heat. He fell back trembling, then felt the presence of another body beside his. As he sat bolt upright in shock, the pale cold light of dawn was sufficient to see the boy falling back, wide- eyed with fear.  
  
The boy ducked his head and said nothing, although a creamy drop of semen on his cheek showed clearly why Qui-Gon had come. The remnants of his orgasm spattered his own stomach.  
  
Qui-Gon stared incredulously at the boy. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, in a rough voice. "What on earth made you think that I would..." Words failed him as he stared at the lad, who continued to avoid his gaze, although it became noticeable that he had begun to shake from a combination of fear and cold. Feeling slightly ashamed of his anger and still shocked by his climax, Qui-Gon reached for the boy, who crept into his arms, although he continued shaking.   
  
"It's okay," soothed the nomad as he wrapped the quilt around the trembling body, hoping his calm manner would mean that he didn't transmit his confusion to the boy. "You don't have to do things like that."  
  
The youth's head rested on Qui-Gon's shoulder for a moment, then ducked towards the older man's stomach as he began to lick at the drying semen splattered there. He was gently but firmly restrained and pushed back on the bedding, where he immediately parted his legs, and reached a hand towards Qui-Gon's crotch.  
  
It was all too much for the startled trader. "I'll clean myself," he muttered, and hurriedly ducked out of the tent, snagging his tunic and leggings as he did so.  
  
A plunge into the cold water of the stream woke him up and helped clear his mind a bit. His teeth chattered as he scrambled into his clothes and went about his early morning tasks, getting breakfast together and feeding the horse. As he worked, he considered the situation.  
  
There was no point in letting the boy return to the town. Vulnerable as he was, he would be preyed upon by the first flesh trader who met him, even if he managed to escape Jabba's inevitable wrath. He didn't seem capable of coping on his own, so the logical solution was to take the boy back to Qui-Gon's own tribe where he could at least be cared for.   
  
But slave or not, it was only fair to ask him first. Which meant getting him to talk.   
  
As he re-entered the tent, he wondered how much the youth actually understood.   
  
The subject of his musings was still naked on the bed, but was cocooned in a pile of quilts. He sat up and began to push them away, but stopped when Qui-Gon shook his head, and squatted on the bed opposite him. He set a bowl of food in front of him and indicated he should eat, while settling down to his own meal.  
  
They ate in silence, and Qui-Gon removed the bowls before returning to his original position, all the while watched intently by the slave.  
  
He cleared his throat nervously. Time for interrogation.  
  
"How much do you understand?" Qui asked the boy, who looked at him. He tried again. "Do you know what I'm saying?" Frustrated, he resorted to the poor linguist's efforts and spoke clearly, slowly and louder. "Do. You. Understand?"  
  
The boy nodded slightly and raised one hand to indicate "a little". Looking at the space between the forefinger and thumb, Qui-Gon concluded he understood very little indeed. Still, they could start with the basics.  
  
He pointed at the boy. "What are you called?" he asked.   
  
A blank look. He tried again.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
This provoked a better reaction and the boy whispered "Obi-Wan".  
  
Qui-Gon smiled and pointed at himself.   
  
"Qui-Gon."  
  
The boy continued to look blank.   
  
"My name is Qui-Gon" he tried.  
  
The boy shook his head slightly.  
  
"Master," he said decisively.  
  


* * *

   
  
Keeping busy, Qui-Gon decided, was the best solution. It was obvious that in-depth conversation would have to wait until a translator could adequately explain Qui-Gon's intentions to Obi-Wan.  
  
An attempt at communication had already ended badly. Through a combination of perseverance, signs and slow speech, Qui-Gon had succeeded in conveying the question "What do you want?" to Obi-Wan.   
  
Instantly the boy had transformed. The angles of his body flowed into smooth graceful lines and his previous expression of wide-eyed anxious concentration became a sensual pout. A slender arm snaked into Qui-Gon's lap as Obi-Wan looked up through his eyelashes, the perfect image of a practised whore, and murmured "Master".  
  
Qui-Gon leapt back as though scalded, an action mirrored by Obi-Wan who sank into the same position the nomad had discovered him in the night before.   
  
"It's okay," said Qui-Gon, carefully keeping his distance. "Don't be scared. You surprised me, that's all."  
  
He continued to talk in a steady, quiet voice, hoping to reassure the youth. He explained that he only wanted to know what Obi-Wan wanted for himself. He explained that he couldn't possibly exploit Obi-Wan, it was against both his nature and his beliefs although he hoped Obi-Wan would understand that it wasn't because he wasn't attracted to Obi-Wan because Obi-Wan was indeed, a most attractive young man, and in a different hypothetical situation, were they both exercising their own free will and with no philosophical, moral or commercial issues to consider, and of course, it all being dependent on Obi-Wan being of an age where one would generally agree that he could give informed consent, well then, Qui- Gon could possibly envisage a situation where...  
  
He stopped abruptly. Obi-Wan still knelt on the bed, a tear drying on his face, and Qui-Gon realised that his speech had calmed the terrified slave. Unfortunately the directions of his ramblings had done nothing to soothe his own emotions.   
  
He could feel a blush rising to his face and hurriedly left the tent. Two minutes later, he re- entered and handed Obi-Wan's clothes to him.  
  
"Get dressed. We're leaving."  
  
It didn't take long to strike camp. Obi-Wan's attempts at helping were kindly rebuffed as Qui-Gon, watched intently by a pair of bright hazel eyes, packed the light tent and equipment and carefully loaded the horses. He considered loading Obi-Wan on the pack horse, but the saddle was hardly suitable for a rider.   
  
He went down to the riverbank to check that he had left nothing, and returned to find Obi- Wan waiting beside his horse, holding the chains. As Qui-Gon approached, the boy bowed his head and offered them with the word "Master".  
  
Biting back on the irrational anger that flowed through him, Qui-Gon took the chains from Obi-Wan and thanked him. Then he bundled them up and threw them as far as he could towards the town, before turning around and helping Obi-Wan up onto the horse. He tethered the packhorse to the saddle, then mounted and firmly turned his back on the town.  
  
They rode in silence for a while, until it became clear that both were dangerously uncomfortable. Qui-Gon desperately tried to avoid touching Obi-Wan, while Obi-Wan's entire body was rigid with misery. It was only when he nearly fell off the horse for the third time that Qui-Gon relented and pulled him back into his arms. Obi-Wan nestled there comfortably, one hand again resting on the rider's thigh and his head cradled against Qui- Gon's shoulder.  
  
To distract himself from the warm body pressed against his, Qui-Gon began talking. It was a habit he'd picked up with nervous horses, just rambling on about any subject that crossed his mind, from the weather to the entire moral and philosophical basis of his tribe. The tone of his voice was a gentle one, designed to soothe young animals, and after about an hour, when he looked down, he discovered that it worked on humans too. Obi-Wan was asleep.   
  
For the first time, Qui-Gon could look at the youth in his arms without seeing an extreme reaction in response. Asleep Obi-Wan looked unworried, his breathing regular. Apart his exotic clothes, asleep he could have been one of a dozen youths Qui-Gon had watched grow up. But this one had a different upbringing, and Qui-Gon's heart bled to think of it.  
  
He suspected that Obi-Wan's "virginity" was merely physical. The boy's actions to date had proven that he was skilled at giving sexual pleasure, and presumably had been taught how to do so. His cowed demeanour and the way he flinched at any vehement expression gave Qui-Gon a pretty good idea of the brutality of that training, and of his life to date. For a moment Jabba's lewd grin sprang to mind and Qui-Gon shuddered involuntarily at the thought of Obi-Wan with the obese merchant.  
  
His slight movement woke the boy who blinked and looked straight into his eyes.  
  
"Master?" he asked quietly.  
  
Qui-Gon pulled him in closer. However worrying Obi-Wan's reactions might be, an hour's quiet introspection had persuaded him that he was taking the right course of action. He could do nothing about the boy's past. But his future was as open as the steppe they rode across, and Qui-Gon was determined to ensure that no clouds loomed on the horizon. As for the attraction he felt, Obi-Wan didn't need to know about those, and Qui-Gon was confident of his ability to dissemble.  
  
"It's okay," he soothed. "Just a little cold."  
  
They paused at noon to eat, and resumed their journey out into the open plains, watching the light changing as the sun progressed around them. Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan his long robe to wear, and the boy wrapped it around himself gratefully before leaning back into the nomad's long arms. Soon quiet even breathing indicated he was asleep again.  
  
Qui-Gon rode on in silence, as the shadows lengthened around him. In the distance, something caught his eye. He nudged Obi-Wan and pointed towards the horizon, where the red of campfires could be seen against the darkening sky.  
  
"Home," he said.  
  


* * *

   
  
It was dark by the time they actually reached the nomad encampment. Obi-Wan sneaked quick curious glances around him as they rode past the tents, although when Qui-Gon looked down at him, he suddenly became fascinated with the horse's neck again.   
  
Qui-Gon grinned. Quiet or not, at least the boy had a sense of curiosity. He wondered how often he had been observed without his knowledge over the day.  
  
Instead of heading straight for the horse lines, Qui-Gon skirted around the edges of the camp until he was closest to his own abode. As he swung down from the horse, a dark figure greeted him.  
  
"Qui-Gon! You took your time."  
  
"Mace. Good to see you." He turned back to help Obi-Wan off the horse, and Mace came forward to grab the reins.  
  
"What have you done now, Qui-Gon?" the dark man asked in an amused voice.  
  
"Mace, this is Obi-Wan. He was, um, well, he was a gift."  
  
"A gift?" Mace's voice was suddenly less amused.  
  
"Yes. From Jabba." Qui-Gon's voice had taken on the same serious tone.   
  
"And you accepted?"  
  
"There was no way to say no." Qui-Gon sighed. "Mace, I know it looks terrible, it sounds even worse, but I'm tired, he's exhausted and there was no way I was leaving him there. Can we talk about this in the morning?" His shoulders slumped, and Obi-Wan quietly moved beside him to offer support.  
  
Mace looked at the pair thoughtfully.  
  
"I'll take care of the horses. Go and get some rest. The Council will want to talk to you about this."  
  
"Well I want to talk to them about it too. So we'll all be happy in the morning. In the meantime I need some sleep. It's been a long ride."  
  
Mace nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, my friend."  
  
Qui-Gon thanked him and headed for his tent with a sense of relief, followed closely by Obi- Wan.  
  
This tent, at least was larger, and bore signs of permanent residence. Possessions were sparse - when living on the move, accumulating goods was neither sensible nor desirable - but the tent had a decided "home" feel to it. A pot steamed on a low table in the centre of the room and a few lamps had been lit to provide a warm light.  
  
Qui-Gon peered inside. "Supper. Someone must have seen us coming."  
  
He gestured to Obi-Wan who stood just inside the entrance to the tent. Hesitantly the boy approached and sank to the floor beside Qui-Gon. He looked around, in quick glances.  
  
"Home?" he said to Qui-Gon.  
  
"Home," confirmed the older man.  
  
They ate quickly and then Obi-Wan was put to bed. He sat up again, confused, when Qui- Gon left the tent.   
  
The older man stuck his head back in for a moment. "Sleep," he ordered, gesturing that Obi- Wan was to lie down, and he watched to ensure that he was obeyed.  
  
Outside the tent, Qui-Gon stretched for a moment, then glanced around. There was still light in the tent that he was looking for, although the camp as a whole was growing dark as people turned in for the night. He quietly walked over and coughed outside.  
  
A woman's head peered out.  
  
"Gossip travels fast, you know. I thought you'd be calling round."  
  
She came out to join him carrying a lantern.  
  
"Anakin's asleep, so we'd be better off heading away from the tents."  
  
Qui-Gon followed Shmi to the edge of the horse lines where they could talk without disturbing anyone. She shone the light in his face, critically looking at it.   
  
"I've missed you, Qui-Gon" she said.  
  
"Me too," he replied, pulling her into a hug. "How's Ani?"  
  
"Exhausting as ever."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"Exhausted!" she laughed. "No, I'm fine. But I think you want to talk about someone else? Mace dropped by and said you'd been given a present."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "A boy."  
  
Shmi fell silent for a moment, and a shadow crossed her face, reminding Qui-Gon of the past. Her own story hadn't been much different - an abused slave, she had a six-year-old son when Qui-Gon saw them for sale in a marketplace and acted on impulse. She'd happily lived with the tribe ever since, raising her son to be a free man.  
  
There had been much speculation about her and Qui-Gon, especially when it became clear that young Anakin regarded him in the light of a father, but both parties made it clear that nothing would happen. They treasured their close friendship, though, and each would seek the other's counsel at times of stress.  
  
"How bad is it?" she asked gently.  
  
"He's a pleasure slave. He doesn't know anything else. He..." Qui-Gon flushed again and broke off the sentence.  
  
"He tried to do what he's been trained to do?" asked Shmi gently. Realisation dawned. "Oh. And how did you react?"  
  
"Not well. And I don't speak his language, while he only understands a few words of mine. I can't explain to him. And, Shmi, he *looks* at me."  
  
She nodded understandingly. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Let him rest tonight." The conversation over, she rose to return to her home.  
  
"I'd offer you a bed for the night, Qui-Gon but I think you should return to him."  
  
Qui-Gon gawped at her. "How can you, of all people, say that?"  
  
"He's scared, he's among strangers and he can't speak the language. He's confused about what's happening, and the sole constant in the turmoil of the past two days has been you. There can be a security in slavery. Don't take that from him as well. Right now, as far as he's concerned, you own him. So don't reject him."  
  
He stumbled beside her. "So you're saying I should treat him like a slave."  
  
Shmi stopped again. "Qui-Gon, I remember when you brought me here. I remember that you had the sense to keep your distance from me, and the heart to be a father to Ani. I remember that you were always there when I needed you and away when I needed to be alone. You taught me what it meant to be free, and I am eternally grateful to you for it. Is it so hard for you to do it again?"  
  
Qui-Gon swallowed. "But Shmi, you never tried..."  
  
"To fuck you? I should have done, I'd certainly been taught to. You can deal with that. It's hardly as though the boy is going to rape you. A look won't hurt."  
  
"Shmi, I..."  
  
"Qui-Gon. Go home. Go to bed and get some sleep. I'll call around in the morning and talk to him. What's his name?"  
  
"Obi-Wan."  
  
"Well then, I'll come around and see Obi-Wan and I'm sure it will all be fine."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded despondently and turned towards his tent. He undressed quickly in the dim light of the one lamp he had left burning. Obi-Wan stirred slightly and murmured something in his sleep as Qui-Gon sat down on the bed to pull off his boots, before crawling under the covers.  
  
A warm body curled up beside him and Obi-Wan snuggled in with a contented mutter of "master".   
  
It all seemed too much trouble to push him away and Qui-Gon gratefully settled back into sleep, sure that it would all be sorted out in the morning.   
  


* * *

   
  
The Council were not being very understanding. Sometimes Qui-Gon wondered if they were deliberately so.   
  
For the fifth time that morning, he explained how he had acquired Obi-Wan. Eventually Mace sat back.  
  
"And where is he now?"  
  
"With Shmi. Probably in my tent."  
  
Mace placed his hands together and regarded Qui-Gon thoughtfully.  
  
"Can Shmi help?"  
  
There was a general air of approval around the council tent.  
  
"I hope so. At the very least, I hope she can talk to him."  
  
Mace rose and left the tent. Qui-Gon could hear him calling someone and some muttered instructions. He returned.  
  
"I've sent for Shmi. I don't doubt you, Qui-Gon, but we have to be sure."  
  
The silence that fell was broken by Ki-Ai-Mundi.  
  
"Was the trading successful?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "We can complete deliveries and be away within the week."  
  
The older man nodded. "Good. I do not like this place."  
  
Qui-Gon turned his head as Shmi entered the tent, closely followed by Obi-Wan whose air of trepidation was replaced by relief on seeing Qui-Gon. He quietly moved over to stand behind the taller man, watched intently by the Council.  
  
Mace turned his attention to Shmi.  
  
"I understand you've been talking with him. Do you speak his language?"  
  
Shmi nodded. "He doesn't speak much, though. He's frightened."  
  
"Of Qui-Gon?"  
  
"Of everything. But a little less of Qui-Gon, I think."  
  
The Council's attention returned to Obi-Wan who was shooting anxious glances at Qui- Gon.  
  
"Shmi, will you ask him what he wants, please?"  
  
Shmi turned to Obi-Wan and asked him a short question in a strange language. The youth answered her quickly, and lowered his head.  
  
"He says he wants to please his master."  
  
She turned to Obi-Wan again, and rephrased the question. Obi-Wan's discomfort palpably increased and he answered her with a single word. He edged closer to Qui-Gon and began shivering.   
  
Without thinking, Qui-Gon put his arm around the boy who gratefully leaned against him.  
  
Shmi turned back to the Council who were all fascinated by the by-play.   
  
"He doesn't understand what you mean." She looked over her shoulder at the pair. "As far as he's concerned, his sole existence is to please his master, and he was told that Qui-Gon is his master. I'd also guess that he was told to please his master or die, and he's been doing his best to fulfil the first part of that order. It's probably his only skill and it's certainly how he judges his own self worth."  
  
She swallowed and continued. "If you really want my opinion on this, leave him with Qui- Gon. We all know he'll be safe there. You can't just break someone's world apart and expect them to adapt instantly. He needs time and Qui-Gon can give it to him."  
  
Mace looked around the tent. "Well?"  
  
Ki-Ai-Mundi spoke again. "If we had a choice, I would not leave him with someone he expects to serve as a slave, but we have no choice. Nor do I think it is fair for Qui-Gon, but again, we have no choice. Qui-Gon must agree to this too."  
  
Most of the Council members nodded.   
  
"Then it's agreed. He stays with Qui-Gon, and we offer help in any way that's needed. Qui- Gon?"  
  
Qui-Gon looked up from Obi-Wan.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How much did you hear?"  
  
"Enough. He's staying with me, right?"  
  
Mace smiled. "It looks like it. Will you be okay with that?"  
  
"Once Shmi has explained a few things, I think so."  
  
"And is there anything else you need?"  
  
"Some help from Adi would be appreciated."  
  
An elegant black woman stood up. "What help?"  
  
"He needs to lose these." Qui-Gon pointed at the collar and cuffs that Obi-Wan still wore.  
  
Adi nodded. "I'll come and find you later today after the meeting has finished."  
  
Qui-Gon formally bowed to the Council and left, followed by Obi-Wan. About five minutes later, Shmi joined them.   
  
"Hungry?" she asked.  
  
"Ravenous," he replied. She touched his arm and smiled at Obi-Wan.  
  
"Come on," said Shmi. "Don't worry. It will all be fine."   
  


* * *

   
  
The day was not so much busy as full. The three of them had spent most of it in the small clearing that separated Qui-Gon's and Shmi's homes. Shmi had been the most busy, rummaging around in both tents for old clothing, finding her sewing kit, and measuring Obi-Wan, who had stood patiently for fittings, glancing every now and then at Qui-Gon for reassurance. Qui-Gon himself had kept his distance from the pair.  
  
At about noon, Adi Gallia had come by with a toolkit accompanied by Shmi's son, Anakin, who was her constant shadow. Obi-Wan had sat quietly at her feet as she probed the bindings of the heavy collar around his neck and talked to Anakin, showing him how she forced the lock. She repeated the action on three of the cuffs, and then let Anakin, his face scrunched tight with concentration, open the fourth.  
  
Obi-Wan blinked once as the last cuff came off and looked across at Qui-Gon.  
  
"You're free," said Qui-Gon. When the blank expression failed to change, Shmi gently translated. Obi-Wan still seemed incapable of comprehension.  
  
Catching the tension in the air, Adi hurriedly gathered her tools together.  
  
"These are silver, Qui-Gon. What do you want done with them?"  
  
"Melt them down," he replied, never taking his eyes away from Obi-Wan. "I don't care what you do with it, as long as it is never used for those purposes again."  
  
She nodded, and left them. Anakin paused and looked at his mother, then stared at Obi-Wan with obvious curiosity.  
  
"Run on, Ani," said Shmi. "In fact, I'm coming with you for a moment. I need to talk to Mace about boots."  
  
She glared at Qui-Gon as she passed him. "He won't bite, you know."  
  
Qui-Gon sat back and watched Obi-Wan, who seemed fascinated by his bare wrists. He carefully reached up to the nape of his neck and rubbed it. Qui-Gon wondered just how long Obi-Wan had worn the signs of slavery, and how heavy the collar had felt. The boy looked more vulnerable than ever now, as though something tangible had been taken from him. Of course, the weight must have become familiar over time, thought Qui-Gon.  
  
He called Obi-Wan who obediently settled down between Qui-Gon's spread legs, and leant forward. Qui-Gon began to gently rub the boy's neck, smoothing the red indents where the collar had sat.  
  
Obi-Wan began to move his neck, practically purring as Qui-Gon carefully massaged the tight muscles. He leaned back closer against Qui-Gon, resting his arms against the taller man's raised knees, as though he was sitting in some grand throne. After a while, Qui-Gon ceased his massage, and just sat there in the sunshine, his face buried in the younger man's hair, enjoying the contact and the sense of safety, blissfully unaware of the picture they presented to the returning Shmi.  
  
She stood at a distance and watched for a moment, a wistful smile curving her mouth until jolted back to reality by a stick connecting with her leg.  
  
"Standing there, you are?" demanded a querulous voice. "Not much good is that, hmmm?"  
  
Shmi looked down to see the tribe's healer glaring up at her. Yoda was the smallest man she had ever met - her own son was already taller than him.  
  
"So where is this boy of Qui-Gon's?" demanded the old man. "Came to see him I did."  
  
Shmi pointed at the two men over by the tents.  
  
"Hmm," said Yoda. "Well, carry my bag, you will?"  
  
He brushed past her and waddled over to the two men. As she followed, Shmi watched Qui-Gon greet Yoda, with his arms still wrapped around Obi-Wan, oblivious to the image he presented, then realise and rapidly separate himself from the boy.  
  
Yoda ignored Qui-Gon and said something to Obi-Wan that made both him and Shmi laugh.  
  
"What?" demanded a disgruntled Qui-Gon.  
  
Shmi continued grinning. "Never you mind."   
  
Qui-Gon glared at his friend, but stopped when he realised that he was being totally ignored. Yoda's full attention was on Obi-Wan who was looking more assured than Qui-Gon had ever seen him before, answering Yoda's questions with quiet confidence. At several of the questions he gave a long answer, to which Yoda nodded solemnly.  
  
Once he paused, and looked behind him at Qui-Gon, before replying. Yoda looked across at Qui-Gon then repeated the question. Obi-Wan replied again, more vehemently and Yoda nodded. He turned to the pair standing a few paces away.  
  
"Fine he is, healthy too. Lucky he was to meet you, Qui-Gon."  
  
To Shmi's amazement, Qui-Gon blushed again.  
  
"Take care of him, you will? And teach him. Horses and our ways. Not long will it take him, I think, to relearn our tongue. Good it is to have a lost one return."  
  
He took his bag from a dumbstruck Shmi and waddled off, ignoring the consternation he had created.  
  
"Lost one?" asked Qui-Gon.  
  
Shmi shrugged. "We could ask."  
  


* * *

   
  
Inevitably, there was no more time that day. Between one thing and another, Shmi and Qui- Gon were in demand. Obi-Wan had at least been found new clothes, so that Qui-Gon's shadow was longer dressed as an expensive pleasure toy. He still looked like one in the way that he moved, as curious glances from tribe members proved.  
  
It was only that evening, long after dusk, that the three found themselves alone again. A wide-eyed Anakin had been firmly put to bed and the trio sat comfortably around the fire. Thinking he was unnoticed, Obi-Wan had inched closer to Qui-Gon until either could have reached out and touched the other.  
  
"Shmi?" asked Qui-Gon quietly. "Can you ask Obi-Wan what he told Yoda this afternoon?"  
  
Shmi turned to Obi-Wan, who began talking again, much as he had done to Yoda. In response to some agitated gestures, he slowed down his speech, while Shmi listened intently. Eventually Obi-Wan fell silent, and Shmi turned to Qui-Gon.  
  
"He doesn't remember much of when he was little," she said. "Not much more than his name, in fact. He remembers grass and horses like here, and voices like yours, speaking the same language. His first really strong memories are of blood and screaming and darkness, then he woke up somewhere else. He thinks he remembers being sold, but it didn't seem to matter very much. His head hurt too much."  
  
"How old was he?" asked Qui-Gon.  
  
Shmi turned to Obi-Wan.  
  
"Not very old. He's not sure. About Anakin's age, he thinks."  
  
Qui-Gon unconsciously reached a hand towards the younger man.  
  
"Anyway," Shmi continued in a matter of fact tone, "Obi-Wan says that the people he wound up with were kind. He always had clothes and enough to eat and he worked around the house. He spent a lot of time learning how the household was run. He seems to have been the only child there, and his mistress liked him and trusted him."  
  
She looked directly at Qui-Gon. "Her trust was very important to Obi-Wan. He felt safe there."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"The soldiers came."  
  
Qui-Gon's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's. The youth shivered a little, then moved closer to the older man.  
  
"Obi-Wan says they... well he knows now that they raped his mistress, but he didn't know what they were doing at the time. Just that she screamed a lot and there was blood and then she didn't scream anymore. They made him watch because he'd tried to fight them to protect her. And then one of them started touching him, but stopped when another man hit him."  
  
She paused.  
  
"He ended up at Jabba's - he thinks he was about 13 at the time - and spent about two years there running errands and keeping his head down."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Jabba strangled one of his slaves with her own hair, and Obi-Wan and a couple of others were sent to remove the body. The other two left, Obi-Wan didn't. That was about three years ago. He's not sure exactly."  
  
Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan in tighter. "Shmi, it's not important to me the way Jabba thought it was, but he said Obi-Wan was a virgin. Can you ask him if he was..."  
  
Shmi stared at him. "I don't need to ask him that. Jabba gets his pleasure in other ways. He physically can't..." She bit her lip then got up and hurried away.  
  
Qui-Gon sat there, feeling like a fool living in paradise. For all his so-called help with Shmi, he realised he knew very little about what happened in society outside his tribe. He looked at Obi-Wan who was by now curled in against him, gazing into the fire as if his story was nothing special.   
  
Shmi returned a few minutes later, her tanned skin pale.  
  
"Shmi, I'm sorry, I..." stammered Qui-Gon.  
  
She smiled sadly at him. "It's okay, not your concern. It's the past, and not worth dwelling on." She reached out and gently stroked Obi-Wan's cheek. "But like it or not, he is your concern now."  
  
Qui-Gon put a protective arm around Obi-Wan who sighed and began stroking the nomad's chest. Qui-Gon pulled back and Obi-Wan immediately stopped and bowed his head again.  
  
Shmi cleared her throat. "That's another thing. Obi-Wan doesn't understand what you mean by 'free'. If you reject him, well that means that anyone who wants him could take him."  
  
"But I'm not rejecting him!" protested Qui-Gon. "I just don't want him to..."  
  
"Qui-Gon, it's all he *knows* how to do. He was given to you for your pleasure and if you don't want that, then why should you protect him?"  
  
"But... but you're not really suggesting that I should...?"  
  
"Don't be absurd. But stop acting like a scalded cat every time he touches you. He'll understand eventually. But you can't just take away his purpose in life. Give him a new one."  
  
Shmi sighed in exasperation at Qui-Gon's expression. "Teach him some useful skills. He can't feel like a free man unless he can work like a free man, and right now the only work he's qualified for is on his back or his knees. Like it or not, he's got some pride in that, because he knows he's good at it. So teach him to be good at other things and then maybe being a good whore won't matter so much to him. But in the meantime, don't let him think that he's bad at that too, because that will shatter what little confidence he has."  
  
"But Shmi..."  
  
"Hold on a moment." Qui-Gon was completely ignored as Shmi talked to Obi-Wan again. The boy nodded solemnly, then said something that sent Shmi into peals of incredulous laughter before she replied. She was still chuckling when she turned to Qui-Gon again.  
  
"What did he ask you?" he demanded.   
  
"He thought I might be your wife or concubine because of the way I talked to you," she explained. "Because a mere slave would never dare to use that tone of voice to her master." She grinned. "Poor lamb. I remember when I thought like that."  
  
Her voice took on a more serious tone. "Anyway, I told him that you're temporarily not having sex."  
  
"You WHAT?"  
  
"For religious reasons. And that you think he's very beautiful and you want him very much, but you don't want to break your oath and you worry that if he touches you too much that you won't be able to resist. So that he shouldn't touch you too much because you'd be very upset if you broke the vow."  
  
Qui-Gon made a small choking noise at the back of his throat. "And this is supposed to help me how?"  
  
Shmi smiled beatifically. "Obi-Wan feels safe because he knows you want him and you feel safe because he won't push you too hard. And you can get on with teaching him some more acceptable skills, and by the time he understands you properly, fucking won't seem so important anymore. I'd talk to Yoda if you want more advice. He understands."  
  
She stood up. "Anyway, I'm going to bed. I suggest you do too, and that you let Obi-Wan share with you."  
  
She carefully covered the fire with sods to ensure that she could rekindle it in the morning, then turned to her own tent.  
  
"By the way," she added, "Obi-Wan says he's very sorry about the blow job. If he'd known you had taken a vow, he'd never have done it."  
  
Qui-Gon was left open-mouthed in a rapidly cooling clearing. Obi-Wan curled up against him once more.  
  
"Master?" he said in an interrogative tone of voice.  
  
"Come on," said Qui-Gon, standing up and reaching down for the boy's hand. "Time for bed."  
  


* * *

   
  
Damn Shmi, thought Qui-Gon as he stalked through the encampment. If I get my hands on her, I'll...  
  
His train of thought broke again as he was once more approached.  
  
"Morning, Qui-Gon" said a jovial Mace. "Good to see you and Obi-Wan. I'm sure he'll be fine in the company of such a religious man."  
  
Throttling's too good for her, thought Qui-Gon, as he continued on his way, ignoring giggles and greetings. Behind him, Obi-Wan looked up at him anxiously.  
  
"Master?"  
  
"It's okay, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon suddenly remembered the boy's lack of vocabulary and thanked whatever deity he didn't believe in that at least he was spared the embarrassment of explaining what everyone was so amused by.  
  
He stopped and smiled at the boy. "Everything's fine," he repeated in a calmer tone of voice. He reached out and touched Obi's shoulder reassuringly.  
  
Obi-Wan smiled uncertainly, and nodded trustingly.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw Councillor Depa's jaw drop in an "O" of astonishment before she collected herself and went on her way. No doubt that little snippet would do the rounds of the camp before long too.  
  
It was all thrice-damned Shmi's fault. Of course it was too good a joke not to share. Tell everyone that Qui-Gon was under a "religious" oath not to have sex. To a tribe who had no taboos on the subject, provided it involved consenting adults, the idea was exquisitely funny. Qui-Gon's only solace was that everyone could be trusted to ensure that Obi-Wan wasn't hurt. But Qui-Gon was fair game, and it seemed to be open season.  
  
Obi-Wan seemed oblivious to the smirks around him. He was looking happier than Qui-Gon had seen him to date. He also seemed to be coping well with the idea of Qui's "vow" of celibacy, a matter of relief to Qui-Gon who was only too aware how disastrous the whole situation could have been.  
  


* * *

   
  
Earlier that morning, Qui-Gon had woken up to discover that during the night, he had tangled Obi-Wan up in the bedclothes and the youth had slept half-buried underneath him. The second thing he had discovered was that they both had erections.  
  
Just as he was trying to find a way to disentangle himself without waking Obi-Wan, the boy had woken.  
  
"Master," he had drawled sleepily, smiling, and stretching as much as he could with Qui- Gon's body weight pinning him to the bed. He had seemed utterly unconcerned by their mutual condition.  
  
Qui-Gon had hurriedly moved off Obi-Wan, who in turn had nonchalantly rolled off the bed and pulled on his new clothes, before disappearing outside. The nomad's jaw dropped at the display of independence, before Obi-Wan returned, carrying some food and followed by Shmi, who grinned at Qui-Gon.  
  
"Still asleep? Typical," she teased. "Just as soon as you get someone to get breakfast for you, you think you can lie in bed all day." She turned back to Obi-Wan and pointed at a few things in the tent, then watched approvingly as he assembled the meal.  
  
"You could put some clothes on," she commented as Qui-Gon sat there. "I may have told him to get some food, but I certainly didn't suggest that he dress you as well."  
  
A blushing Qui-Gon had begun to wrap a blanket around his hips when Obi-Wan quickly came over with his tunic and leggings. Qui-Gon quickly wriggled into his clothes under Shmi's grinning scrutiny and joined her at the small table in the centre of the tent.   
  
"Shmi" he hissed, purple with embarrassment. "What on earth did you tell him to do?"  
  
"Look at him," she murmured back. "He's got something to do and he's feeling useful. Now make sure you thank him and he'll be perfectly happy this morning. Otherwise, I'll just have to suggest that he does start dressing you, and you don't want that, do you?"  
  
She smiled sweetly at him. "Although I think you might enjoy it."  
  
She turned to Obi-Wan who was bringing over the last dish. "One more thought, Qui-Gon. Things would be so much easier if he could understand you. Why don't you help him?"  
  
"Yes, Master," muttered Qui-Gon as she left the tent, still smiling beatifically. A puzzled Obi-Wan looked over at him.  
  
"Joke," commented Qui-Gon laconically.  
  
Obi-Wan clearly didn't understand, but shrugged his shoulders and began filling a plate, which he handed to Qui-Gon. The older man promptly handed it back, with the instruction "Eat", before filling another plate for himself.  
  
The meal was punctuated by Qui-Gon pointing to assorted foodstuffs and naming them. His actions initially confused Obi-Wan who attempted to serve the food to Qui-Gon, but the youth quickly realised what he meant, and obediently repeated the words. Some of them he said before Qui-Gon had a chance to, and Qui-Gon nodded his approval.  
  
He was careful to thank Obi-Wan after the meal, and was rewarded by a dazzling smile as the boy began to tidy up the tent. Qui-Gon left him there making the bed, while he returned Shmi's dishes.  
  
"Are there any more surprises in store for me?" he demanded as she took them from him.  
  
Shmi turned her most innocent expression up to Qui-Gon.  
  
"Surprises?" she inquired artlessly.  
  
"You know what I mean," said Qui-Gon. "Suddenly there's a beautiful young man sleeping in my bed on what promises to be a semi-permanent basis, *and* he fetches breakfast. What next? Have you told him to scrub my back if I take a bath?"  
  
Shmi delicately sniffed the air. "I wish I'd thought of that sooner," she commented. "You do stink of horse." The desperation evident on Qui-Gon's face made her relent. "I told him that he was to stay with you and watch what you did, since he was going to learn how to help you."  
  
"And that's all?"  
  
"Would I lie to you?" she asked.  
  


* * *

   
  
It was obvious now, as he took Obi out to the horse lines, that Shmi's definition of not lying was rather narrow. Qui-Gon wondered just how much she had told the rest of the tribe about his alleged vow. The sight of the horses quickly dispelled his worries and he soon found himself engrossed in his work.   
  
Obi-Wan watched carefully as Qui-Gon worked his way through the horse lines, checking on each animal. Qui-Gon tried to explain that he helped with sick horses. Obi-Wan seemed to grasp the idea better when Qui-Gon pointed out several ailments, and helped when Qui- Gon selected a few horses to take away from the herd for further examination.  
  
Yoda joined them as Obi-Wan was leading a horse to and fro, and looked at the animal critically.  
  
"Healed, that leg wound is," he commented. "Good, you are."  
  
"I should be," commented Qui-Gon, looking down at the tiny man. "You taught me everything I know."  
  
They both watched Obi-Wan silently. "Good you will be with him too, I think," added Yoda.  
  
Qui-Gon sighed. "If only..."  
  
"If only...? queried Yoda. He craned his neck to look up at Qui-Gon. "Ah," he said, as comprehension dawned.  
  
Qui-Gon sat down on the grass beside the old healer.   
  
"Not easy, is it?" asked Yoda. "Heard about your vow, I did. Clever, Shmi is."  
  
Qui-Gon sighed.   
  
"Patience," cautioned Yoda. "Always important patience is in cure. Look at him. One day, and happier he is already."  
  
He watched Obi-Wan for a little longer. "Teach him," he said. "Help himself he must. Strong, defence will make him. When strong he is, then maybe to you he will come."  
  
"Yoda," hissed Qui-Gon. "I've only known him two days. It's absurd."  
  
"Absurd?" asked the healer. "Since when is it absurd? Seen how you look at him, I have. Enough, two days can be. Now time you need."  
  


* * *

  
Yoda's words haunted Qui-Gon for the next few days. Obi-Wan seemed cheerful enough, following him around the camp like a shadow, but the anxiety he tried to hide every time he was separated from Qui-Gon was obvious to everyone. The jokes about the "vow" soon dried up, especially when it became clear that Obi-Wan was comprehending more each day. Surreptitiously, Qui-Gon's closest friends were watching him for signs of strain as Obi- Wan's blatant devotion became clear.  
  
No strain seemed apparent. In fact, it soon became clear that Obi-Wan was not the only one upset by any separation. Qui-Gon dealt with it better, but the way he reacted to Obi-Wan's presence made it obvious to all that the boy was becoming increasingly important to him. He was scrupulous about the relationship, refusing to take advantage of Obi-Wan, although the temptation of just leaning over and kissing the boy was growing stronger.   
  
Yoda, he reflected, had been right. The overwhelming sense of pity that had characterised his first interactions with Obi-Wan had been replaced by confusion. He knew that the boy shouldn't be sleeping in his bed, he knew that he shouldn't wake up in the mornings with Obi-Wan in his arms and a raging hard-on demanding his attention, yet the idea of the situation changing was rapidly becoming unbearable.   
  
The sole factor that was keeping him sane was Shmi's ridiculous "vow". More than once he had been woken by Obi-Wan firmly pushing him away and saying "No" in a determined voice. To his shame, Qui-Gon had realised that he had been caressing the boy in an obvious prelude to sex. Obi-Wan had not been unaffected either. Breathing heavily, and with a flushed face, he had got out of bed and dressed clumsily, his fingers slipping as he fumbled with buttons and ties.   
  
And that, thought Qui-Gon, had made it worse than ever. He knew Obi-Wan's reaction was a schooled one, which meant that it was unlikely that Obi-Wan would be interested in true consensual sex. He knew Shmi valued her celibacy, that the freedom to refuse was the most valuable one she possessed. Qui-Gon saw no reason why Obi-Wan should be any different.  
  
In fact, he reasoned, as soon as Obi-Wan realised he was free, it was probable that he would be anxious to separate himself from all reminders of his slavery, including Qui-Gon.  
  
Better to make the break sooner rather than later, Qui-Gon thought, as he watched Obi-Wan assemble a meal. Any attempts at helping Obi-Wan in what he perceived as his assigned duties were inevitably rebuffed, so Qui-Gon resigned himself to being served whether he liked it or not.   
  
The way Obi served him now was very different to their first encounter. There were no more bowed heads, no sense of fear, just a calm Obi-Wan competently preparing food and setting it out. The only thing that could have indicated any imbalance in their relationship was that Obi-Wan persisted in referring to Qui-Gon as "Master".  
  
The boy was soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Shmi was beginning to refuse to translate for Qui-Gon, pointing out instead that it was more sensible for the two to attempt to communicate directly with each other. And it was working. Obi-Wan was not so much learning the language as remembering it, and was falling naturally into their pattern of life. There would be time enough, as Yoda and the Council advised, to learn what trade he would like to follow. In the meantime, his de facto apprenticeship with Qui-Gon was proving most successful.  
  
Language and riding lessons were combined in the early evenings when Qui-Gon and Obi- Wan would take a couple of horses and roam the wide steppes. Sometimes others accompanied them - Adi, Mace, Anakin and even occasionally Shmi - but mostly they rode alone, often in companionable silence. Obi-Wan's natural grace had translated well to the saddle and he sat comfortably and confidently on his mount.  
  
It was these times that kept Qui-Gon safe. There seemed to be no barriers between himself and Obi-Wan, no uncomfortable sexual tension, just the sky, the wind, the horses and the wide plains. Obi-Wan was at his most loquacious then, although he still spoke little, and mostly in reply.  
  
Inevitably it was one of these rides that triggered another crisis for Qui-Gon. They were nearly back at the camp, when Obi-Wan had plucked up his courage.  
  
"Master?" he asked shyly.  
  
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"  
  
"Your vow. How long?"   
  
Qui-Gon looked across at Obi-Wan, trying to decipher the expression on his face. The half- light of approaching night hindered his attempt.   
  
"I don't know," he said honestly.  
  
Obi-Wan digested this information in silence, then spoke again.  
  
"Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon looked up.  
  
"Do you want me?"  
  
"Of course I want you, Obi-Wan," answered Qui-Gon. "We all do."  
  
The problem with Obi-Wan's halting words was that he understood and comprehended far more than he was capable of saying, with the result that his speech tended to be blunt.   
  
"Not that, Master," he clarified. "Do you want to fuck me?"  
  
Qui-Gon reined in his horse. A few paces ahead, Obi-Wan circled his mount until he was facing Qui-Gon, their legs nearly touching.  
  
"I don't know," admitted Qui-Gon. "It's complicated."  
  
Obi-Wan reached out and touched Qui-Gon's face, a gentle gesture that reminded Qui-Gon of his earlier attempts to comfort the youth.  
  
"Not complicated," said Obi-Wan as he pulled the older man to him for a kiss. "Not complicated at all."  
  


* * *

   
  
The kiss wasn't long, but all the sweeter for that. Qui-Gon parted his lips to Obi-Wan's gentle assault, and for one brief moment allowed himself to surrender to the sensation.   
  
He could almost fool himself that Obi-Wan truly wanted him, maybe even loved him. What he most wanted in the world was on offer and within reach. Briefly he kissed back, his tongue probing Obi-Wan's mouth.  
  
But only a fool lived in a fool's paradise. And Qui-Gon was no fool.   
  
It tore at his heart to pull back from Obi-Wan but he managed it, with the knowledge that he was right small consolation for the thousand regrets that assaulted him.  
  
"Master?" asked Obi-Wan nervously.   
  
"Not now," said Qui-Gon brusquely. "It's late." He urged his horse into a canter. Obi-Wan followed a moment later.  
  
Qui-Gon avoided meeting the younger man's eye as they returned the horses to the lines. Obi-Wan followed him back to their tent and paused at the entrance, but Qui-Gon crossed over to Shmi's fire. After a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan followed him. He approached Shmi and began speaking to her in a low voice, glancing over at Qui-Gon every now and then.  
  
Shmi listened intently and said something that seemed to reassure Obi-Wan. Then she stalked over to Qui-Gon with an air of determination about her that made his heart sink.  
  
"What happened?" she demanded in a voice of extreme displeasure. "What did you do?"  
  
"Why did I have to do *anything*?" responded Qui-Gon. "If you must know, he kissed me."  
  
"Oh yes, and Obi-Wan would have just kissed you out of the blue."  
  
Qui-Gon flushed. "He asked me about the vow. The vow, I might add, that you invented."  
  
"I had my reasons. And how did you answer?"  
  
"I said I didn't know."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"He...," Qui-Gon looked up imploringly, but Shmi was implacable. "He asked me if I wanted to fuck him."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I said it was complicated."  
  
"Hmph."  
  
That seemed to be all Shmi was likely to say. She returned to Obi-Wan and began talking again.  
  
Qui-Gon watched the pair, their heads together, talking in low voices, and realised miserably that he was their topic of conversation. He hunched his shoulders and stared at the fire.   
  
Raised voices shook him from his reverie. If he didn't know either of them better, Qui-Gon would have sworn that Obi-Wan and Shmi were arguing. He watched with interest as they continued, both of them obviously convinced they were right. Eventually Shmi appeared to concede and Obi-Wan left the campfire for Qui-Gon's tent.   
  
Qui-Gon turned from watching Obi-Wan pass to discover Shmi scowling at him.  
  
"I hope you're happy," she said.  
  
"What?" asked Qui-Gon helplessly.  
  
"He's worked out that if there was a vow in the first place, it's certainly over by now. He's expecting you to wander in and fuck him at your leisure. Just one more man to abuse him."  
  
Qui-Gon's jaw dropped. "You told him that?"  
  
"Of course I didn't," Shmi near-screamed. "I tried to persuade him that he didn't have to. But he wouldn't listen." She broke down into sobs and Qui-Gon awkwardly comforted her.   
  
"I won't do it," he said. "You know me, I wouldn't do it."  
  
Shmi shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He says he wants you to."  
  
"What? He couldn't possibly."  
  
Shmi straightened up. "Qui-Gon, that boy is expecting you to go in there and fuck him. And as much as I hate to say it, I think you'd better do so."  
  
She turned to leave, then turned to make one final comment.  
  
"Don't go in there and fuck him. Go in there and make love, and maybe something can be reclaimed from this whole sorry mess. Let him see what possibilities it offers. And maybe one day he'll find someone to love properly."  
  
She contemptuously threw some sods on the fire, leaving Qui-Gon sitting in the rapidly cooling night, feeling as though she had punched him in the guts. He looked over at his tent, only to see Obi-Wan move around, silhouetted by the lamp within, and realised that his options had run out.  
  


* * *

   
  
At least Obi-Wan was clothed. Qui-Gon didn't think he could have coped with a repetition of their first night together. The contrast between the two Obi-Wans was staggering. This one smiled hopefully when Qui-Gon entered the tent, with virtually no image of the naked youth who had knelt awaiting his master's pleasure. If what Shmi said was right, Obi-Wan was now seeking his own.  
  
Qui-Gon refused to believe that. False hope was worse than no hope at all, and Obi-Wan had been a slave for too long and a free man for too short a time.   
  
"Master?" asked Obi-Wan shyly. "Do you want...?"  
  
Master. The word in itself indicated that Obi-Wan still regarded himself as someone's property, to be used at that person's whim. The idea repulsed Qui-Gon as much as Obi-Wan attracted him. For one wild moment, he wished that Obi-Wan's self-esteem was not so tightly linked with his sexuality and that this beautiful youth was offering himself to Qui- Gon because he truly wanted him. He didn't doubt that Obi-Wan wanted him, but he doubted Obi-Wan's reasons. Whatever the reason might be though, Qui-Gon knew he had a duty to Obi-Wan. He just wished his duty was less linked with his pleasure and his desires. For some reason it made it all the more difficult to respond.  
  
Obi-Wan still looked up at him hopefully, although a certain nervousness crept into his demeanour as he waited for Qui-Gon's response. That alone decided Qui-Gon's course of action. Live in the moment, he thought.   
  
"Oh yes," said Qui-Gon, pulling Obi-Wan close. "So much."  
  
Obi-Wan sighed with contentment and rested his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder. He began caressing the older man's chest through his tunic.  
  
"Master," he murmured.  
  
Qui-Gon bent his head and pulled Obi-Wan into a long kiss, pouring all his desire and longing for the youth into the meeting of their mouths. Obi-Wan's hands snaked lower and began tugging at the belt of Qui-Gon's tunic. Qui-Gon covered Obi-Wan's hand with one of his own, and helped him to remove the belt, then the tunic.   
  
Obi-Wan seemed fascinated by Qui-Gon's broad muscled torso and explored it with mouth and tongue and hands in a way that soon had the older man gasping with pleasure. Then Obi-Wan dipped his hands to the waistband of Qui-Gon's leggings and bent down to undo them.  
  
"No," said Qui-Gon gently. "Let me."  
  
He quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and turned to Obi-Wan, who had sucked in his breath. Gently kissing the boy once more, Qui-Gon began to carefully undress him. First the tunic was removed, baring a slender chest, then the leggings lowered, revealing lean flanks and a tumescent penis. Qui-Gon used his mouth to follow his hands, skirting Obi-Wan's cock. The boy gasped and staggered slightly, placing his hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder to steady himself.   
  
Qui-Gon pushed him down to sit on the end of the bed then knelt down in front of him. Obi- Wan blindly reached towards him, but Qui-Gon clicked his tongue in admonition, then began removing Obi-Wan's boots and leggings, while gently caressing the boy's thighs and flanks and stomach, careful never to touch the penis that strained upwards begging for attention. By the time he was finished, Obi-Wan had shut his eyes and was begging in a faint voice.  
  
"What do you want, Obi-Wan?" asked Qui-Gon slowly.  
  
"You," moaned the youth. "Please, Master, now."  
  
Qui-Gon leant forward again and recaptured Obi-Wan's mouth, before pushing him back on the bed and covering him, enjoying the sensation of lean body against lean body. It had been a while since Qui-Gon last had a lover, and he took his time in reacquainting himself with the sensations.  
  
Obi-Wan squirmed beneath him, trying to touch Qui-Gon back, but Qui-Gon growled his disapproval.   
  
"Lie still," he ordered. "This is for you."  
  
Obi-Wan complied, but soon found it difficult to obey as Qui-Gon explored his body with an experienced touch. There was a touch of sadness in Qui-Gon's eyes as he watched Obi- Wan's face contort with pleasure. From the way he was reacting, Qui-Gon doubted anyone had ever concerned themselves with the boy's pleasure before. He wondered if Obi-Wan actually knew what the things he had been forced to do felt like for the recipient.   
  
Qui-Gon dipped his head and engulfed Obi-Wan's cock in his mouth. The younger man gasped in pleasure at the sensation and arched upwards, thrusting into the warm heat. He tangled a hand in the long hair that fell about his crotch, hiding his view of Qui-Gon as he sucked and licked and teased Obi-Wan's cock. Obi-Wan reached out his other hand, and Qui-Gon caught it in his, effectively preventing Obi-Wan from doing anything except concentrate on his own pleasure.   
  
All too soon, it seemed, it was over. Obi-Wan moaned and thrust forward while Qui-Gon swallowed deep and licked the boy clean, before crawling up beside him.  
  
"Good?" he asked.  
  
"So good, Master," murmured the boy as he curled over into Qui-Gon's arms. "Wonderful."  
  
His hand crept down to Qui-Gon's cock.   
  
"It's okay, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon gently. "You don't have to."  
  
Obi-Wan propped himself up on one elbow. "You want to fuck me," he said bluntly.   
  
"I don't want to hurt you." I don't want to own you, he silently added.  
  
"You won't." Obi-Wan's reply was assured and Qui-Gon wondered briefly how to interpret that statement. Then logic departed as the boy leaned over and kissed him. Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon's hand down to his crotch.  
  
"Still hard for you," he hissed, then moved their hands over to Qui-Gon's cock. "And you for me. Fuck me, Master."  
  
He reached out to the bedside and brought back a small bottle of oil. "Please?" he asked.  
  
Qui-Gon's hands shook as he opened the bottle. He leaned over and kissed Obi-Wan again, then carefully and liberally coated his fingers with oil. Obi-Wan moved onto his back, parting his legs, and gazed up at Qui-Gon with a mixture of desire and trust that nearly choked the older man. It frightened Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan so obviously trusted him and he leaned over for a tender kiss of reassurance before turning to his task.  
  
The first finger was the hardest to insert. Obi-Wan was virginally tight and Qui-Gon's hands were not small. Obi-Wan tensed in reflex the moment Qui-Gon's finger began probing and the older man realised that however much the boy might claim to want this, he was still frightened by the prospect of penetration.  
  
Qui-Gon removed his finger and crouched down between Obi-Wan's legs. He trailed his tongue down the youth's perineum until he reached the tightly puckered ring behind it. Obi- Wan froze when he felt the first stroke of Qui-Gon's tongue, then squeaked in astonishment as he was slightly penetrated by the warm, slippery organ. He squirmed as Qui-Gon tasted him intimately.  
  
"Master," he said in a shocked tone of voice. "Master, not your place."  
  
"Mmmm?" Qui-Gon continued despite Obi-Wan's disapproval. Obi-Wan was too distracted by the new sensations to truly object. He scarcely seemed to notice when Qui-Gon replaced his tongue with one long finger that probed deeper. Obi-Wan gasped when Qui-Gon brushed against his prostate and arched his hips in the air in a silent plea for more.   
  
Qui-Gon continued, carefully watching Obi-Wan's face for signs of reluctance or pain. But there were none. He rapidly established a rhythm and watched the contortions of the boy's face as he thrust, adding a second finger and then a third to gently stretch Obi-Wan. He finally stopped when Obi-Wan began to feel much looser and knelt in front of the boy for a moment, catching his breath and overwhelmed by the experience.  
  
Obi-Wan tenderly took the bottle from Qui-Gon's unresisting hands and coated the older man's cock with oil, then turned over onto his stomach. He looked behind him at the dazed Qui-Gon.  
  
"Master, please?" he asked in a pleading tone.  
  
He hissed as the bulky head of Qui-Gon's penis pushed its way past the tight ring of muscle. Qui-Gon froze for a moment, but the boy began bucking against him, urging him in deeper. He moaned loudly when Qui-Gon brushed against his prostate again, then began panting in unison with Qui-Gon when he began thrusting. Despite the preparation, Obi-Wan was almost painfully tight as his muscles clenched around Qui-Gon's driving cock, pulling him in deeper. The boy began whimpering a quiet litany of "pleasepleasepleasemasterpleaseplease".   
  
Nothing mattered any more to Qui-Gon as he drove into Obi-Wan's willing body. He was lost in the moment, in the passion and desire, in the gift of trust that Obi-Wan had given him. It was a poor substitute for Obi-Wan's love, but in the absence of love, it would serve.  
  
He reached down and possessively grasped the boy's penis, although he doubted whether Obi-Wan needed any help in coming. Obi-Wan twisted his head back for a savage kiss, then howled out his orgasm a moment before Qui-Gon, too, shuddered and came.  
  
"Mine," gasped Qui-Gon as he collapsed on the bed.  
  
"Yours," said Obi-Wan with satisfaction.  
  


* * *

   
  
Qui-Gon slept solidly until awoken the next morning by Obi-Wan returning with food. The boy grinned happily at the sleep-tousled man and moved the table to the end of the bed before climbing back on it to serve breakfast.  
  
Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan into his arms for a kiss before they both turned to breakfast.  
  
"Shmi is angry," said Obi-Wan. "Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"No," replied Qui-Gon. "She's angry with me."  
  
Obi-Wan looked thoughtfully at Qui-Gon, and the older man wondered if he was about to say something.   
  
Then the boy shrugged. "Not important. I don't know the words."  
  
And that seemed to be it. Far from being troubled by the events of the night, Obi-Wan seemed at his most confident, smiling spontaneously at Qui-Gon.   
  
Qui-Gon wished he felt the same. His heart sank at the prospect of facing Shmi and the Council. Neither would be very forgiving of the night's events.  
  
"Master?" asked Obi-Wan shyly.  
  
Qui-Gon jerked out of his reverie to find Obi-Wan watching him apprehensively.   
  
"It's fine," he soothed the boy, reaching out for a reassuring touch. Obi-Wan looked unconvinced.  
  
"We should have a sword lesson," continued Qui-Gon.  
  
"Yes, Master," said the boy obediently.  
  
Shmi avoided them as they left the tent in search of a suitable practice ground, although Qui-Gon caught her looking after them speculatively. She turned away when she caught his eye.  
  
Contrary to speculation, Obi-Wan had proven to be an excellent student with the sword, working his way through the forms with grace and speed. Sometimes they were joined by others, offering alternative opponents for Obi-Wan. He fought them all with a detached courtesy, which worried Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan seemed to approach fighting as though it was a performance, a dance for an invisible audience. There was no aggression visible in any of his actions, and Qui-Gon despaired of ever persuading the boy that the training was for his own defence. Non-aggression seemed to be ingrained in Obi-Wan's psyche, and Qui-Gon feared that the youth would allow another to abuse him rather than defend himself.  
  
"No way of knowing," said a voice at Qui-Gon's knee.  
  
"What?" Qui-Gon settled himself on the ground, the better to be able to converse with Yoda who was intently watching Obi-Wan spar with Mace.  
  
"Know what you were thinking, I was. Scared you are that Obi-Wan will not defend himself. No way of knowing, think I, and why worry? Need may never arise."  
  
Qui-Gon sighed. "I hope you're right."  
  
"Always right am I," chuckled Yoda. "Was right about you and Obi-Wan. Not absurd at all, was it?"  
  
Qui-Gon blushed furiously.  
  
"Nothing will Council say. Approve they do not, but understand they do."  
  
Mace tried a tricky manoeuvre to disarm, but the boy unexpectedly blocked him and laughed before disarming the black man whose jaw dropped in surprise before he joined Obi-Wan in laughter.  
  
The youth looked over to Qui-Gon for approbation and beamed when a few words of encouragement and congratulation were called out. Obi-Wan turned back to Mace and handed him his practice sword.  
  
"See?" said Yoda smugly. "Confident he is. Happy he is."  
  
"Are you suggesting that I keep Obi-Wan like some kind of pet? Feed him, clothe him and fuck him to keep him happy?" hissed Qui-Gon.  
  
Yoda hit him with his walking stick. "Fool you are," he snapped. "Biggest and blindest fool in camp. Such low opinion of Obi-Wan have you?"  
  
Qui-Gon blinked. "I don't. But it's wrong... he's only..."  
  
"Because 'Master' you are?"  
  
Qui-Gon ducked his head miserably. "Yes."  
  
"Chose he did, to stay with you. And understand the choice he did." Yoda punctuated him comments with taps of his walking stick. "Slave he might be, but free will he understands. Vehement he was."  
  
Qui-Gon thought back to Yoda and Obi-Wan's first conversation. "But is he choosing to exercise it?"  
  
Yoda shrugged. "Knows he does that safe he is here. Chose he still did, to stay with you. Trust you he does. In everything."  
  
"But why would he want to...?"  
  
"Fuck?" asked Yoda, as bluntly as Obi-Wan was likely to put it. "Trust you he does, said I. Many reasons there are for making love. Enjoy it, did he?"  
  
Qui-Gon wished the ground would open up and swallow him. "Yes," he muttered, now beetroot red.  
  
"Pleasant associations has he now?" Yoda was as blithe as if they were discussing the weather, while Qui-Gon squirmed miserably beside him. "No fool, Obi-Wan is. When on a whim your life depends, read characters you do or die. Survive he did. Now maybe choose he does to do more than survive."  
  
Yoda pondered for a moment. "Shmi he knows?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Scared of strangers she is. Scared of many things. Scared of living sometimes. See this maybe Obi-Wan does? Chooses another path, he does?"  
  
The wizened man sighed at the incomprehension on Qui-Gon's face. "Obey you blindly does Obi-Wan?"  
  
"No," admitted Qui-Gon.   
  
"Night you met him, obey you did he?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So now choice is Obi-Wan making. Finding who he is. Helping him you are and will be. Trust and faith he has." Yoda considered Qui-Gon. "And maybe love."  
  
"And if this isn't all true?"  
  
"Then pet you have and kind you must be."  
  


* * *

   
  
Time unexpectedly became at a premium later that day. After considering the season and the weather, the Council decided it was the perfect time to move to winter pastures, and both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan found themselves busily helping to dismantle the camp for packing. It was a rush to get everything done before dark and there was no time for talk while they worked. Both men were ready to sleep by the time night fell, and Obi-Wan wrapped himself up in the blankets they would carry on their horses and dozed off immediately after supper.   
  
Shmi returned from the one large tent left standing, where the children and elders would sleep that night and during the journey, to find Qui-Gon waiting for her. Pointedly she took her bedroll to the other side of the fire and lay down with her back to them.   
  
Qui-Gon was not the only one who noticed. Mace and Adi both observed, and each reacted differently. Mace frowned sternly, whereas Adi offered a small smile and shrugged philosophically. Nothing was said. It was neither the time nor the place.  
  
Suppressing a sigh of frustration Qui-Gon lay down beside Obi-Wan, keeping the boy between himself and the fire. With a low murmur, Obi-Wan shifted in his sleep to move closer to the older man. A faint smile danced across his lips as firelight lit his sleeping face, and Qui-Gon reflected that at least one person seemed to be reasonably content. It was a start, he supposed.  
  
They rose before dawn, and in the chaos of preparation, Qui-Gon had no chance to speak to either Shmi or Obi-Wan. He spotted them every now and then, sometimes separately, sometimes together, but all were anxious to begin moving before the sun had risen too high. Eventually Ki-Ai-Mundi announced that it was time to mood, and Qui-Gon returned to his horse to find Obi-Wan waiting for him.  
  
Adi came hurrying up, with a bundle. "They want some people armed on the edge of the group, just in case," she said, and handed Qui-Gon a sword. "You're to ride near the head."  
  
She turned to Obi-Wan with another one. "Lucky I finished this. You're to go with him."  
  
Obi-Wan took the sword gingerly and turned it carefully, looking at the blade. "Thank you," he said.   
  
A flash on the hilt caught Qui-Gon's eye and he turned interrogatively to Adi.  
  
"I used some of that silver," she said by way of explanation. "It seemed appropriate. Oh, and there's some on your sword too, because the hilt needed work."  
  
It looked like a weak excuse to Qui-Gon. Adi grinned unrepentantly at him.  
  
"I thought it was appropriate," she said.  
  
"Is that your new word?" he asked sarcastically.  
  
She nodded enthusiastically and left them. It seemed that whatever else happened, one of the Council was on their side. Qui-Gon just wished he knew what "their" side was.  
  
"Master?" Obi-Wan was already mounted, the sword safely lodged in a sheath on his saddle pack. "Time to go."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded and swung into the saddle.   
  


* * *

   
  
It was twenty days' journey south to the winter pastures and the tribe moved at the pace of its slowest member. Mostly it was a rambling affair, with a slow core and faster activity around the edges as herding duty was swapped and those at the front took their turn at the rear, rounding up stragglers and bearing the brunt of the dust and muck churned up by the tribe's herds.   
  
Sometimes they moved much more slowly, keeping rigidly together in places of danger. No stragglers were permitted then, and the weaker members of the tribe were firmly shepherded to the centre. The presence of Obi-Wan was a firm reminder of previous losses by other nomadic groups, and this one was determined to lose none of its people.   
  
Obi-Wan throve on the journey. He was losing the last traces of his indoor pallor and his body was losing some of the sharper angles of near-starvation. The observant noticed the difference in his eating habits. He was no longer hesitant about food offered him, nor did he gulp it ravenously. Instead he ate healthily, with an appetite honed by long days in the saddle.   
  
He smiled much more, genuine grins of happiness and affection, rather than tentative grimaces. He was still cautious of strangers, but no longer pulled back behind Qui-Gon when meeting them, and now was obviously comfortable in the company of those he had known longer. He still kept with Qui-Gon whenever possible, but seemed utterly relaxed if he had to be elsewhere. No-one watching doubted that Obi-Wan was expressing his preference, rather than a compulsion.  
  
Mace and Adi had engaged in a couple of brief arguments, the contents of which had flown around the camp. Mace was still dubious about the long-term benefits of keeping Obi-Wan with Qui-Gon, arguing that it only enhanced the youth's dependence on the older man, while Adi stuck to her guns that Obi-Wan was choosing to remain with Qui-Gon of his own free will. Obi-Wan's persistence in referring to Qui-Gon as "Master" disturbed them both.  
  
Ironically enough it was Shmi who noticed the real shift in power in the relationship.   
  
She was still furious with Qui-Gon for his perceived abuse of Obi, yet found herself unable to stay away from them. After a couple of brief vicious spats, Shmi and Obi had agreed to steer clear of the topic of the two men's relationship and were uneasily reverting to their former friendship.  
  
Similarly Shmi was avoiding direct interaction with Qui-Gon most of the time, but tolerated his presence at her campfire. Her lips had pursed intolerantly the first time a shyly hopeful Obi-Wan had held his hand out and led Qui-Gon away from the camp, only to returning in darkness an hour later, reeking of sex. Her demeanour towards Qui-Gon grew stiffer and more distant as these incidents were repeated until the night she noticed, that although visibly tired, the older man had hidden all traces of exhaustion in front of his younger companion and acquiesced in the unspoken request for sex. She said nothing that night, but the next morning she rode up beside Qui-Gon when Obi-Wan was out of earshot.  
  
"You don't free one slave to make another," she said without preamble.  
  
Qui-Gon slumped wearily in the saddle. "Shmi, please, not again."  
  
"I'm not talking about Obi-Wan, you fool. I'm talking about you."  
  
Qui-Gon rode on in silence.  
  
"You talk about the need for Obi-Wan to decide for himself, but you no longer do so, do you? Remember 'no'? It's a useful word."  
  
"Shmi," began Qui-Gon. "I... I was taking your advice. If I say no..."  
  
"You might get a good night's sleep."  
  
"I don't think I can," blurted Qui-Gon. "I'm scared..." He pulled his horse out of the group and rode a few paces before stopping. Shmi followed him. Further ahead, Obi-Wan looked back and circled, approaching at a trot.  
  
Shmi said nothing as Qui-Gon struggled to control his emotions. "It's just that I..."  
  
"That you love him?" she asked quietly.  
  
Obi-Wan was much closer now, concern etched on his face. There was a flash of anger on his face as he looked at Shmi.  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. Shmi reached out and gently took his hand. "I'm sorry for things I said before. I didn't realise," she said gently.  
  
"That makes two of us," said Qui-Gon with a touch of black humour. "I won't do anything to hurt him, you know that. Just..."  
  
He paused, then started again. "I won't do anything to keep him with me beyond when he needs me." He spoke with determination.  
  
Shmi nodded. "You didn't even need to say that. I know you. Whatever I may have said, I do know that."  
  
She pulled back as Obi-Wan approached.  
  
"Master?" he asked anxiously.   
  
Qui-Gon smiled. "It's okay."  
  
Obi-Wan turned to Shmi. "If you are going to make him sad, leave him alone," he ordered.  
  
Shmi opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again as a new thought crossed her mind. She turned her horse and rode back to the main group, a smile creasing her face as she thought out the implications of what she had just seen. Behind her, she could hear Qui-Gon feebly protesting that it wasn't Shmi's fault, really, while Obi-Wan expressed himself on the subject of people who upset Qui-Gon. For someone who was still learning, he had a remarkable grasp of the language, she thought. Most eloquent. She wondered briefly how eloquent he would be when it came to expressing other things to Qui-Gon and for the first time since Obi-Wan had arrived at the tribe felt confident about the future for both of them.  
  


* * *

   
  
The tribe's route south bypassed towns and villages, but fifteen days into the journey, Qui- Gon and Obi-Wan were part of a small group that broke off and headed for a large town that sprawled across a major trade route. They brought an extra horse with them. Qui-Gon had explained the detour to Obi-Wan when he invited him to go.  
  
"We're going to collect Amidala from her cousin Palpatine. He invited her to stay when we moved up in spring. Her father was from the town but joined us years ago, and after her parents died, 'Dala wanted to see what it was like. So we'll swing in and collect her, and then rejoin the tribe south of the town."   
  
Obi-Wan nodded.  
  
"Are you sure you want to come? It's only two days and I thought that towns..."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded confidently. "Not scared of towns."  
  
"Or people?" asked Qui-Gon quizzically.  
  
"Not with you around," said Obi-Wan with such trust in his face that Qui-Gon's heart leapt. "I'll stay close to you, and I'll be safe."  
  
Obi-Wan wasn't the only one staying close as they rode through the gates. None of the accompanying nomads were happy with confined spaces and the entire party felt claustrophobic as they rode down the narrow winding streets.  
  
They were stared at curiously by passers by, and Adi, the sole female member of the party, was openly ogled. A few bolder souls called out to her, but backed down when she turned her steady gaze on them. There were few women on the streets and those that were wore heavy veils and were accompanied by men.  
  
"Qui-Gon, Mace," she asked in a low voice. "Do you know where we're going?"  
  
Qui-Gon shrugged and Mace replied.   
  
"Palpatine is a merchant. I was going to ask directions."   
  
"Then I suggest you do so? I do not like this place."  
  
Mace nodded and stopped his horse in front of a passer-by. After a brief conversation he turned around.  
  
"He lives near the central square. A large house with a red door and two black lanterns. Apparently it's easy to find."  
  
Adi nodded and moved on ahead, accompanied by Obi-Wan. Mace pulled back beside Qui- Gon. "How much do you know about Palpatine, Qui-Gon?" he asked in a low voice.  
  
"Not much," murmured Qui-Gon. Ahead of them Adi and Obi-Wan were carefully watching their progress. "He seemed a pleasant man when he visited us, and as Amidala's sole surviving blood relative, it seemed right that she should get to know him. He said he dealt with the traders that came through the town. Why do you ask?"  
  
"That man I asked for directions. He asked me if Adi was for sale."  
  
"What?" Qui-Gon's hissed response made the two in front turn around. "Are you sure?"  
  
Mace shrugged. "I thought so, but the accent is so strange I'm not sure."  
  
Qui-Gon looked at him dubiously. "Even if it was what he meant, it doesn't mean it has anything to do with Palpatine."  
  
Mace shrugged. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."  
  


* * *

   
  
The house was indeed easy to find, located in a large square that bore all the signs of being a busy market place on fair days. A servant answered the door and looked at the nomads curiously.  
  
"We're here to see Amidala," said Mace.   
  
The servant looked blankly at him.   
  
"Palpatine's cousin," added Qui-Gon.  
  
The servant nodded recognition at the name and ushered them into the hall before scuttling off to find his master. The quartet surveyed their surroundings with curiosity. Palpatine's public rooms were plainly but expensively decorated with materials that had been brought a great distance.   
  
"He's a trader," commented Adi, looking at some ironwork with a professional eye. "Of course he'd acquire foreign curiosities."  
  
"Indeed I did, dear lady," boomed an affable voice as a kindly looking older man appeared in the hall. "And if I remember correctly, you are Adi Gallia, the smith, are you not?"  
  
Adi smiled and nodded. "I was admiring the ironwork of the torch sconces."  
  
"Ah yes, they came from the west, I believe. Inevitably one deals in barter and some items are just too beautiful to let go. Please do feel free to examine them further."  
  
As Adi smiled and turned her attention to the ornate work, Palpatine beamed at the three men. "Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn and, I believe I don't have the pleasure of this young man's acquaintance?"  
  
"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon hurriedly. "My apprentice."  
  
Palpatine nodded at Obi-Wan and concentrated on the two older men. "My humble abode is honoured by your presence. Two Council members and the esteemed healer, Qui-Gon Jinn. What brings you to our small town?"  
  
"Amidala," said Mace. "We are heading south for the winter and we have come to collect her as promised."  
  
"My delightful young cousin?" said Palpatine with a touch of surprise. "I had no idea it was so late in the year already."  
  
Mace merely inclined his head.   
  
"But where are my manners? You must be thirsty from your long ride. Let me offer you some refreshment."  
  
He clapped his hands and another servant appeared, ushering them into another elegant room furnished with formal couches. The four sat uncomfortably facing their host while an array of minions scuttled around proffering drinks and food.  
  
"Alas," said Palpatine, his broad smile sinking into a more serious expression once his guest had been served. "I have some news to confess about Amidala."  
  
"Yes?" asked Mace directly.  
  
"It is, I am sure, upsetting news for you, although it gladdens my own heart. The dear girl has expressed a preference for our urban way of life and would rather remain living in my custody than return to your tribe."  
  
He paused and looked directly at Adi.  
  
"Of course, I said that no such decision could be made without the assent of the tribal elders, since she is still so young, which is why I am so glad to see you here, dear lady."  
  
Adi looked at him in surprise.  
  
"It is our custom in this town that ladies of, shall we say gentle breeding, tend to restrict themselves to the domestic sphere, as protection from the more sordid aspects of life. Amidala is very aware that social acceptance in this town therefore prohibits her from entertaining men from outside her immediate family circle and is most anxious that she does not breach town etiquette. But your arrival means that she can convey her wishes to the tribe with perfect propriety and thus all parties are satisfied."  
  
Adi exchanged a startled look with the others.  
  
"That certainly does seem to be a major change in sentiment for Amidala," she ventured nervously.  
  
"Indeed it does," agreed Palpatine. "But consider the poor girl's recent trauma, losing both parents to illness within the space of a year. Surely fear for her own health in the rough life of the tribe must have contributed to this decision?"  
  
"That might be the case," conceded Adi. "Although I would not consider our life to be any more unhealthy than that in a town. Still, we will not oppose Amidala's decision one way or the other. May I go and see her?"  
  
"Of course you may," beamed Palpatine. He clapped his hands and a middle-aged woman appeared.   
  
"One moment," said Qui-Gon as Adi prepared to follow the servant out of the room. "Is there any reason that Amidala would not be permitted to see a male cousin?"  
  
"That would depend," mused Palpatine. "How close a relative?"  
  
"Her mother's brother's son," said Qui-Gon smoothly. "He joined us recently from a related tribe. Obi-Wan has never met his cousin before and I know he was anxious to make her acquaintance. If Amidala is intending to remain here, would you permit him to be introduced to her?"  
  
Palpatine looked at the blandly innocent faces of the three men. "Certainly, I see no problem." He turned to Obi-Wan. "I did not realise you were a relation by marriage, young man. I am indeed delighted to make your acquaintance. One of the Kenobis, eh?"  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded.   
  
"Admittedly a very shy Kenobi," said Mace, hurriedly covering for the youth's confusion. "Go along with Adi and pay your respects to your cousin, Obi."  
  


* * *

   
  
Obi-Wan had the wit to stay silent as he followed Adi from the room. As they followed the servant down a long corridor towards some stairs, Adi pulled at Obi-Wan's sleeve.  
  
"Stay alert," she murmured. "If Qui-Gon wants you to come along, he's worried about Amidala."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded.  
  
"I'm worried about her too," continued Adi. "It just doesn't sound like her. I always felt she came here because Palpatine put so much pressure on her, and I fear he's making her stay. I don't trust that man, he's too smooth."  
  
"Adi, I...," Obi-Wan broke off as they arrived at a set of double doors. Adi shot a warning look at the youth as the servant turned around to them.  
  
"These are the young mistress's quarters," she said severely. "I will see if she will receive you."  
  
The pair were left there for a moment.  
  
"Adi," Obi-Wan tried again.  
  
"What?" she asked, her mind mostly on thoughts of Amidala.  
  
"Adi, I've seen that man before."  
  


* * *

   
  
Early in the proceedings, Qui-Gon had lost Mace to their host's library. The tribe's scribe had been fascinated by the collection of books and scrolls on display and a laughing Palpatine had insisted that he stay and explore.   
  
"And from what I know of your interests, I believe I have some livestock that may interest you, Qui-Gon Jinn," said the merchant. "Most exotic creatures."  
  


* * *

   
  
"Palpatine? But how could you know him?" asked Adi, puzzled.  
  


* * *

   
  
Palpatine led Qui-Gon across a small courtyard. "I'm afraid my humble abode does not compare to that of other, more successful merchants," he commented. "But it is home, and home, of course, is where the heart is."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded polite assent and followed Palpatine through a heavy door that a waiting servant had unbolted. "It seems most sumptuous to me," he offered. "But then we live a frugal life, constantly travelling."  
  
"Although I understand you indulge in some luxuries," commented Palpatine.   
  
"We're not monks," commented Qui-Gon wryly.  
  
"No, so I had heard. Ah, here, we are." Palpatine pushed open another door. "The treasures of my collection."  
  


* * *

   
  
"I saw him at Jabba's. He went there regularly." Obi-Wan's low tone was urgent. "Adi, he's a slaver."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"He bought slaves that Jabba didn't want anymore. I'm sure, Adi. It's the same man."  
  
They both turned as the double doors opened.   
  
"Lady Amidala will see you now," said the servant.  
  


* * *

   
  
The overwhelming sense was of flesh. Vast quantities of young, nubile flesh. On a second look, Qui-Gon realised that there were about twelve young people in the room, eight boys and four girls. A third look established that he was right to regard them as juvenile - none seemed to be out of their teens, and a couple seemed to be barely on the edge of physical maturity.  
  
Palpatine beamed proprietarily.  
  
"I wouldn't have taken you here, but Jabba mentioned that you seemed most pleased with his gift. It surprised me, I must admit, but it's pleasant always to find a kindred spirit. I suppose the lad is out at your camp? A pity that, I should like to have seen him. Jabba trains his pets well. I've purchased more than a few from him over the years. I'm sure he's bringing you great pleasure."  
  
Palpatine's voice trailed off and a smile crossed his face as though he was remembering something particularly pleasurable.  
  
He recalled himself to his location. "Please be my guest," he said to Qui-Gon who was trying to hide his shock and repulsion. "If any of them take your fancy, they will obey your wishes."  
  
A dark-eyed boy moved closer to Qui-Gon and Palpatine and regarded his master with lustful kohl-rimmed eyes. Palpatine reached down and caressed his head, cupping the boy's face in one hand.  
  
"You're such a good pet for me, aren't you?" he crooned at the youth in a way that turned Qui-Gon's stomach. "Such an obedient pet." He gestured towards Qui-Gon. "Now show what a good pet you are and be nice to my guest."  
  
The boy crawled over to Qui-Gon with long, fluid movements reminiscent of a big cat stalking its prey. His oiled skin sparkled with a glittery substance that highlighted his every move.  
  
"Master," he purred, settling his head against Qui-Gon's thigh.  
  
Qui-Gon fought back the urge to recoil in distaste and reached down to the boy's head. Palpatine watched with pleased interest as Qui-Gon mimicked his earlier action and tilted the boy's face towards him.   
  
"There's nothing he won't do," said Palpatine conversationally. "Superbly trained - one of Jabba's boys, of course - and he knows he's getting a bit long in the tooth for here."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't normally keep them when they lose that wonderful flexibility of youth. I prefer them fresh. So this lad will move onto one of my brothels soon and start earning me a pretty packet. Time to pay me back for the luxury he's lived in since he came here."  
  
The boy had continued to press his body against Qui-Gon's leg and now began to caress his thigh, creeping closer to his crotch. Qui-Gon reached down and stopped the boy's hand before it crept too close. Immediately the youth hung his head in a way painfully reminiscent of Obi-Wan's earlier reactions to Qui-Gon.  
  
"Doesn't he please you?" asked Palpatine in surprise. He looked at the boy speculatively. "Do you think he might not be as successful as I anticipated?" The boy grimaced as Palpatine roughly pulled his head back by the hair.  
  
"No, no," said Qui-Gon, desperately trying to change the subject. "I... I'm just not interested at the moment."  
  
"If it's girls you prefer," began Palpatine, indicating the quartet in the room.  
  
"No," Qui-Gon assured his host. "He's beautiful. I'm just not interested right now."  
  
"Ah." Palpatine was vaguely puzzled. "Perhaps you'd care to join me for a drink while we wait for the others."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded gratefully, but found his discomfort was not over. At a nod from Palpatine, the boy followed them to another room and served them food and drink, before settling down on the floor between their chairs.  
  
"As I was saying," said Palpatine, "I have a chain of brothels - and I constantly need new stock for them. But it's a perk of my business that I get the cream of the crop. And business always gets a fillip when one of my treasures comes on the open market, you know."  
  
Palpatine idly tore a peach open with his fingers and fed some to the boy, who licked clean the juice that dripped from the slaver's fingers.   
  
"It's a virtuous cycle, as I like to say, from vice." He laughed at his own joke and Qui-Gon mustered a weak smile.  
  
He sat there in growing horror as Palpatine detailed the complexities of his trade - a series of brothels, each catering for a different market, from the luxurious and expensive bordellos patronised by the town's elite to the rough barns where travellers could find fast relief. The larger the operation, the easier to run.   
  
The boy seemed unconcerned as Palpatine, patting his head as he spoke, used him as an illustration, explaining how the slaves trickled down through the system, moving to the cheaper establishments when they failed to meet standards at their existing one until their use was gone.  
  
"I no longer run the individual businesses on a day-to-day basis," added Palpatine. "Instead my junior partner takes much of the strain from me, leaving me to enjoy the fruits of my labour." He chucked the boy's chin and looked into his eyes.  
  
"Yes," he said contemplatively. "Time for a change, I think."   
  
"Junior partner?" asked Qui-Gon, horrified by Palpatine's story and doubly appalled at the fate the other man had just condemned the boy to.   
  
"Yes," said Palpatine. "A very enterprising young man. His name is Maul."  
  


* * *

   
  
"His name is Maul," said Amidala in a flat, emotionless tone. "And we are to marry on midwinter's eve."  
  
"That's ridiculous," said Adi. "You're too young."  
  
Adi glumly reflected that "ridiculous" seemed to be her latest word. Everything she had heard since she entered the room - and before, considering Obi-Wan's sudden revelation - seemed to belong to a dream. They had been greeted by an elaborately costumed Amidala whose face was hidden behind a mask of formal makeup as stiff as her manner. She had been polite but distant to Adi and barely acknowledged Obi-Wan, while displaying no curiosity about their alleged relationship. Since Adi was well aware that Dala was more usually open and friendly and downright curious, and furthermore knew Adi well, this change in behaviour was disturbing.   
  
The presence of the servant was an obvious inhibitor. She watched Amidala like a hawk. Adi wracked her brains desperately trying to think of a way of making the woman leave them alone, but she came up with a blank. There seemed no way of having private conversation with Amidala, and for all that she was only fourteen, this painted doll was intimidating. Nor did Adi feel comfortable about the servant, who she increasingly regarded in the light of a gaoler. Fear for Amidala kept Adi from asking Amidala anything outright.  
  
It was Amidala herself who found the chance to signal. Turning to the servant, she commented, "It is rather hot in here. Would you open the windows while Obi-Wan is here to help you? I know that they're too heavy for you on your own."  
  
The servant shot a suspicious glance at Amidala who returned a blank look of innocence, and then glared at Adi, who seemed fascinated by the tea they had been served. Seeing nothing unusual, she grudgingly went to the heavy window shutters, followed by Obi-Wan.  
  
Amidala leant forward, urgently. "Help me," she mouthed at Adi, before returning to her previous impassive pose. The servant returned to her seat, watching the pair carefully.  
  
Adi continued with the stilted chit chat for a while more before getting to her feet.  
  
"We shall certainly abide by your wishes, Amidala," she said. "And may I wish you all the best for the future? I am sure things will turn out for the best."  
  
Amidala shot her a look of gratitude as she leant forward to formally kiss Adi on the cheek. "Thank you, Adi. I knew you would understand."   
  
She turned to Obi-Wan. "It was a pleasure to meet you, cousin."  
  
Obi-Wan bowed slightly and took Amidala's proffered hand. "And you too, my lady," he replied formally, before following Adi out the door.   
  
The servant ushered them out then led them back to the public parts of the house.  
  
"Stay alert," murmured Adi to Obi-Wan. "Amidala's not happy. We have to get her out of here."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly as they were shown into the library. Mace looked up in surprise.   
  
"That was quick," he commented.   
  
Adi looked at the shelves of books. "More likely that you've lost track of time."   
  
She turned conspiratorially as the servant left them. "Mace, we have to get Amidala out of here. She's frightened."  
  
"Then why isn't she with you?" asked Mace, puzzled. "Surely she'd just join you?"  
  
"It's not that simple," said Adi. "She's terrified. And apparently Palpatine wants her to marry someone called Maul."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," replied Mace. "She's only a child."  
  
"Exactly!" Adi almost shrieked with frustration. "And she wants out!"  
  
"Then why doesn't she just say so?"  
  
Adi sighed. Mace was always a bit distracted after finding new books. "And there's more. Obi-Wan says that Palpatine is a slaver."  
  
Mace gave Obi-Wan a sharp look. "Are you sure?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "I saw him before." He looked around the room nervously and jumped as the door opened. Palpatine entered, followed by Qui-Gon who looked relieved on seeing the trio.   
  
"Mace, distract him," murmured Adi. Mace promptly engaged their host in conversation as Qui-Gon turned to Adi and Obi-Wan.  
  
"Everything okay?" he inquired in a conversational tone.   
  
"Fine," said Adi, noticing that Palpatine was eavesdropping on them.   
  
"That's good," said Qui-Gon awkwardly.  
  
Behind them, Mace managed to persuade Palpatine over to the bookshelves where he enthused at great length about the volumes on display.  
  
Adi took advantage. "Qui-Gon, we have to get her out of here. She's virtually a prisoner."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "Our host is certainly not as pleasant as I thought." He broke off and looked at Obi-Wan.  
  
"He's a slaver," completed Obi-Wan quietly. "He used to come to Jabba's. I've seen him there."  
  
"Would he recognise you?" asked Qui-Gon.  
  
"No," said Obi-Wan after a moment's thought. "The only one who saw me there was his partner Maul."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. "I suppose we can't just ask for 'Dala - we'd never get out of here. We have to do this fast." He pondered the matter for a moment, then spoke again.   
  
"Adi, we'll get the horses ready, then you remember that you left something up with 'Dala. That should give you a chance to get her out and we'll just have to run for it."  
  
Adi nodded. "Let's do it then. It will be sundown soon and the gates will be closed."  
  
She crossed the floor to Mace and Palpatine. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, directing a dazzling smile at Palpatine. "But we really must be leaving if we are to rejoin the tribe when expected."  
  
Palpatine bowed graciously. "It has, as ever, been a pleasure to see you, my dear lady," he beamed at her. "And fascinating to discuss their passions with your associates."  
  
He ushered them to the hall and watched them mount their horses.   
  
"Goodbye," he waved cheerfully as they prepared to leave. He paused when Adi reined in her horse and circled back to the door.  
  
"I am a silly fool," she said to Palpatine. "I was showing Amidala a bracelet given to me by my mother and I forgot to take it back when I left her. Would you mind if I just ran up to retrieve it?" She smiled sweetly as she spoke.  
  
"Don't bother yourself, my dear," said Palpatine. "I'll get one of the servants to run up for you."  
  
"Nonsense," said Adi briskly as she dismounted. "I'll do it in half the time." She deftly slipped past Palpatine and disappeared through one of the doors.  
  
Qui-Gon circled around and caught her horse's reins. "Impetuous as ever," he smiled apologetically at Palpatine who was plainly thrown by Adi's actions. "Still, she'll only be a moment. Tell me, what is that building over there?"  
  
He deliberately pointed at one out of direct view, forcing Palpatine to move away from the door.  
  
"Ah, that's the Corn Exchange," said the merchant, who proceeded to name other buildings at Qui-Gon's request.   
  
A scream from the house, followed by the sound of running feet, made him turn around. He was roughly pushed aside by Mace pulling the spare horse into position as Amidala sprinted out the door, followed closely by Adi, who in turn was pursued by a stocky muscular man. The two women scrambled onto horses and kicked their animals into a fast gallop out of the square, followed a moment later by Mace and Obi-Wan.   
  
The stocky man leapt at Qui-Gon, attempting to unseat him. The horse shied, nearly tipping the fighting pair onto the ground as they struggled, half in and half out of the saddle, both trying to reach Qui-Gon's sheathed sword. A lucky blow knocked the assailant into the dust of the square. As the nomad wheeled and followed his companions in their dash from the town, he caught a glimpse of a contorted face, near purple with fury, and heard a hoarse curse follow his departure.  
  


* * *

   
  
They rode hard, not slowing until the heaving sides of their horses alerted them to the length of their race. Night was falling and their progress south was soon indicated by the stars, rather than the fading glow in the west.   
  
Eventually they slowed their horses to a walk, realising that their pace had outstripped any potential pursuers and that the light made it difficult to ensure that there were safe footholds for their animals. They grouped in closer together to discuss their next move.  
  
"They won't attack," said Adi confidently. "If we make it back to the camp, we're safe. They can't risk making enemies of the tribes. It would disrupt all their trade routes."  
  
"But we have to get back," said Amidala. "If they find us out here, we are in danger." Her voice shook.  
  
"How are you, Amidala?" asked Mace gently.  
  
"I'm fine," she sobbed. "I feel like an over-dressed doll, and the first thing I want to do is wash my face, but I'm fine."  
  
Mace and Adi rode in closer to her. "Do you want to ride with one of us?" asked Adi.  
  
Amidala shook her head. "Really, I'm fine, just being silly. Besides we'll get home quicker if we're all on different horses, and that's what I want to do most. Just get home." She decisively pushed her horse into a slow canter, the kind that can eat up miles without exhausting an animal, and the others followed her.  
  
Qui-Gon moved close to Obi-Wan.  
  
"And you?" he asked in a low voice. "I would never have brought you to that house if I had known."  
  
"Nothing happened," said Obi-Wan in a flat voice. "Amidala is free, and we'll be back before they can send a search party after us. I walked in there and I walked out of there."  
  
He rode on in silence. "What about you? How did you find out? It wasn't as though Palpatine was advertising."  
  
Qui-Gon shuddered. "He'd heard about you. No," he continued, in response to a startled look from Obi-Wan, "he didn't know it was you, but Jabba had told him about his..."  
  
"His gift?" asked Obi-Wan gently. He reached out for Qui-Gon's hand and pulled it to his own face, rubbing his cheek against it. In the bright moonlight, Qui-Gon could see the sheen of glitter that transferred from his palm to Obi-Wan's face.  
  
"Yes," he said looking back down at his horse's neck. "And he thought that I was like... He took me to see his 'treasures' as he called them. There was a boy there, about your age, maybe a little older. He had dark hair and golden skin and he moved like some exotic creature," said Qui-Gon. He looked over at Obi-Wan who sat straight in the saddle, unconscious of the glitter that shone on his face.   
  
The boy's face was wiped from Qui-Gon's memory, and in his mind's eye, he saw Obi-Wan as one of Palpatine's toys. "This boy - he didn't seem to have a name, Palpatine called him pet - he... he was beautiful." A waft of perfume escaped Qui-Gon's clothes, pulling back his memories of that room and a pair of kohl-lined dark eyes.   
  
"The boy was ordered to please me. Palpatine said he would do anything I wanted." Again Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan in his mind's eye, the slave desperate to please his master in any way possible. "Anything," he whispered. "He said the boy was going to the brothels, he wasn't pleasing Palpatine enough anymore." He reached out to Obi-Wan and wiped the glitter from his face. Obi-Wan caught his hand and looked impassively at the glitter that lay there, then gently dropped Qui-Gon's hand and raised one of his own to wipe his cheek. A faint residue clung to his palm and shone in the moonlight.   
  
Qui-Gon never noticed the expression on Obi-Wan's face. He rode in a reverie of misery for the rest of the night and never noticed the imperceptible distance that Obi-Wan put between them as he, too, rode through the night cloaked in silence and his own thoughts.  
  


* * *

   
  
They reached the encampment before dawn. Despite their efforts to move quietly, it seemed the entire tribe was awake within ten minutes and agog at the rescue, and within half an hour, the Council had called a meeting to discuss the matter. All of the rescue party attended.   
  
They listened gravely as Amidala told of Palpatine's deception and her betrothal to Maul.  
  
"Palpatine is paranoid," she said. "He says that we stole his brother when my parents married and tried to destroy his family. So he formally adopted Maul as his heir and wanted me to marry him to cement the alliance. He wants to expand his trade. I heard him talk of raids for new stock, and he mentioned the tribes. He said it had proved successful in the past."  
  
"Stock?" asked Ki-Ai-Mundi in puzzlement.  
  
Amidala shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what he trades in," she said. "He wouldn't tell me. He just laughed and said I didn't need to worry about that."  
  
"People," said Qui-Gon. "He trades in people." Beside him Obi-Wan nodded.  
  
"Know him, you do?" asked Yoda.   
  
Obi-Wan swallowed. "I saw him before."  
  
"Hmmm. And this Maul?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded again. "I think so. He has a strange marking on his face."  
  
Amidala looked across at Obi-Wan sharply. "That's him. But how do you know?"  
  
Adi tapped her on the shoulder and shook her head warningly.  
  
"Not now, 'Dala," she hissed.  
  
Obi-Wan stared ahead, ignoring the knowing looks that the rest of the Council shot at him. Qui-Gon reached out surreptitiously to touch him in an attempt at offering comfort, but Obi-Wan ignored him.  
  
The Council hummed and hawed and eventually conceded that there was little they could do. Slavery was legal in the towns, and Amidala as a woman and a minor had few rights there. However, since the towns also recognised tribal law, it was unlikely that there would be any attempt to recover Amidala.  
  
She seemed hesitant about this verdict. "Maul is determined about these things. He pushed for the marriage. He's powerful," she said.   
  
Ki-Ai-Mundi nodded. "That may be, but he would by necessity be one man alone against an entire tribe. Prudence dictates that he would not come after you. I think you are safe, Amidala. We will continue our journey south tomorrow, and I would be very much surprised if we have pursuers. Far more likely that Palpatine will choose to lick his wounds in private."  
  
She inclined her head, conceding the point. Ki-Ai-Mundi looked around. "Are we agreed? Then the meeting is dismissed. I think our travellers would like some sleep."  
  
Obi-Wan rose without looking at Qui-Gon and left the circle. He swiftly retrieved his blankets and headed for a quiet corner of the camp to sleep. By the time Qui-Gon caught up, Obi-Wan was curled up in a sheltered spot. Qui-Gon threw his bedroll down on the ground beside the youth, but this time, Obi-Wan did not turn around to creep into the warmth of the other man's body as was his custom.   
  
Feeling rather lost and wishing that he had never exposed Obi-Wan to such memories, Qui- Gon lay there for a while before the events of the previous night caught up with him and he too fell into an uneasy sleep.  
  


* * *

   
  
Waking mid-afternoon wasn't much better. Obi-Wan was already up and gone, his bedding cleared away, by the time Qui-Gon was stirring. A quick scout of the camp failed to locate him and Shmi looked blank when Qui-Gon asked her if she had seen him. She quickly extracted the whole story of the trip to the town from him, and sent him on his way to continue his hunt.   
  
Anakin ran by, followed by an older girl who Qui-Gon grabbed. Amidala grinned back up at him, her face freshly scrubbed, her formal clothes changed for a tunic and pants, and looking far more like her 14 years.  
  
"Qui-Gon!" she squeaked, and threw her arms around the big man. "Thank you!"  
  
Qui-Gon pulled her up for a hug, making her giggle and squirm. "Feeling better, 'Dala?"  
  
She nodded vigorously. "Much. Ani's showing me all the things that happened this summer, and Depa and Mace say that I can be their apprentice at scribing."  
  
"Did you get any sleep at all?" demanded Qui-Gon.  
  
"I'm too excited to sleep," she protested. "It's too much fun being home again." She hugged him again and wriggled free from his arms.   
  
"'Dala," called Qui-Gon as she began to run off. "Have you or Ani seen Obi-Wan?"  
  
Anakin shook his head, but Amidala paused. "I saw him earlier. I went up to thank him."  
  
"And?"  
  
"He didn't look very happy," she said reluctantly. "And I think he wanted to be alone."  
  
"Amidala, this is very important. I need to know where Obi-Wan is," said Qui-Gon.  
  
She squirmed a bit under his scrutiny and scuffed the ground with her foot. "He said he wanted to be alone."  
  
"You talked to him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And?" Qui-Gon bit back on the sudden urge to shake the information from Amidala.   
  
"I asked him if he was my cousin. And he said no." Clear eyes met Qui-Gon's. "He said he was your slave." Her expression clearly showed what she thought of that.  
  
Qui-Gon moaned with exasperation. "He's not, okay? It's complicated, but Obi-Wan is not anyone's slave."  
  
"So," continued Amidala as though Qui-Gon had not spoken, "I asked him if he was running away, and he said he wasn't, but he wanted to be alone for a while. That he needed to think."  
  
Qui-Gon tried to hide his frustration. "And?"  
  
"Are you mad with him?" asked Amidala. "Because if it's going to get him into trouble, I'm not telling you. He looked so miserable."  
  
"He's not in trouble. I am," said Qui-Gon. "Look, 'Dala, I know he said he wanted to be alone but I really need to talk to him."  
  
Adi and Shmi walked up to the trio from where they had been observing the conversation.  
  
"Amidala, I really think you should tell Qui-Gon," Shmi urged. Beside her, Adi nodded.  
  
"I told him about the lake about a mile away," said Amidala. "You know, the one to the east? I used to go swimming there every year, and it's a really nice place, so I thought Obi-Wan might like it too." Adi was already fetching Qui-Gon's saddle.  
  
"What's going on?" Amidala asked the two women as Qui-Gon urged his horse into a gallop out of the camp.  
  
"It's a complicated story," said Shmi absently.  
  
"Oh please, don't you start with that," snapped the girl. "As if I haven't had enough of it already."  
  
Adi chuckled and put her arm around Amidala. "Some people never change, do they?" she laughed. "Come on, I'll tell you if you help me with some jobs I have to do."  
  
Amidala pulled a face.  
  
"Fair deal," said Adi. "Information for labour. And if you don't hurry up, the price will go up."  
  
She laughed again as Amidala quickly fell in beside her.  
  
"Mom?" Shmi was woken from her reverie by Anakin's voice.  
  
"Yes?" she asked, pulling her son into her arms, once more grateful for the precious gifts Qui-Gon had given her.  
  
"Are they going to be all right?"  
  
Shmi chose to misinterpret the question. "Well, Amidala seems as curious as ever, so I should think she will be."  
  
"Mom!" An exasperated voice chided her. "You know I meant Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan."  
  
Shmi buried her face in Anakin's hair despite this affront to his nine-year-old dignity.   
  
"I don't know, my love," she murmured unhappily. "I just don't know."  
  


* * *

   
  
The lake was nestled in between some low hills that hid it from general view. As he rode up, Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan's horse tethered to a picket pin driven in the ground. There was no immediate sign of its rider.   
  
Curving through the tiny pass between two hills, Qui-Gon saw a pair of boots and a pile of clothes by the side of the lake. A bundle of half-undone tack and a pot of grease indicated that Obi-Wan had also been working. The angle of the sunlight hitting the lake from the west made it difficult to distinguish anything on the silvery water, but some movement away from the grassy shore caught his eye.   
  
Obi-Wan appeared to have taken Amidala's advice and had gone for a swim. Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan flipped his body in a dive that sent him swimming down in the depths of the lake. There was no doubt that the youth could swim and swim well.   
  
Qui-Gon could not. Stifling his impulse to strip off and join Obi-Wan, he sat down on the lake shore, close to Obi-Wan's clothes and watched the younger man move through the water as though it was as natural to him as air. Despite his haste to get there, Qui-Gon found he was reluctant to disturb Obi-Wan's leisure and stretched out on the ground in the warm afternoon sun, enjoying the gentle heat on his bones and listening to the sounds around him.   
  
In the distance he could hear the soft whickering of the horses as they contentedly grazed in the shelter of the hills and the rustle of smaller creatures in the grass around his head. Overhead, the softer sounds of songbirds was disrupted by the harsher call of a raptor, hunting its prey.  
  
Every sound, whatever its origins and meaning, helped push Qui-Gon into a state of blissful torpor as he relaxed utterly for the first time since he had met Obi-Wan. Whatever else had happened, Obi-Wan seemed to have grasped the concept of his freedom sufficiently to take this independent step and while Qui-Gon remained uneasy about the causes for this transformation, he was more than happy about the results. He knew that as much as he loved him, he could never have kept Obi-Wan in a state of dependency and subservience. He also knew that he had come to terms with his feelings for Obi-Wan and they no longer disturbed him.  
  
Presently he began to doze, dreaming, as he had so often in the past few weeks, of Obi-Wan, swimming over and walking up naked from the lake like an exotic water spirit before leaning over and gently kissing him awake. He smiled faintly as he felt a drop of water from the dream Obi-Wan fall on his face, then pushed his hand up when he felt another.  
  
Obi-Wan was certainly naked and certainly wet. However, the expression on his face as he stood over Qui-Gon's body bore no resemblance to any dream that Qui-Gon had experienced as the youth scowled at him and demanded: "What are you doing here?"  
  


* * *

   
  
Obi-Wan didn't wait for Qui-Gon to answer but turned in a flurry of water and started pulling his clothes on. He jerked angrily at his pants when they insisted on clinging to his damp legs and fumbled with the fastenings.  
  
"I thought I was free," he said pointedly. "What can I do for you, Master?"  
  
"You are free," said Qui-Gon. "I was worried about you. And don't call me master."  
  
Obi-Wan laughed humourlessly. "What should I call you?"  
  
"Qui-Gon."  
  
There was no reply.  
  
"Obi-Wan?"  
  
"Yes?" demanded the boy in a muffled tone as he pulled his tunics over his head.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong. Everything's perfectly fine, Master."  
  
"Obi-Wan!" snapped Qui-Gon.  
  
Defiant hazel eyes met Qui-Gon's sorrowful blue ones. "Nothing is wrong, Master," said Obi-Wan more gently. "I've just realised that I was wrong about some things." He sat down and began pulling on his boots. Qui-Gon joined him.  
  
"What things?" he asked gently, reaching up with one hand to stroke Obi-Wan's cheek. The boy flinched away from his touch.  
  
"Nothing important."  
  
"It's upset you, it's important."  
  
"No it's not." Obi-Wan brushed Qui-Gon's hand away and gathered the tack together. He ignored the nomad as he began to replace it on his horse.  
  
"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon pleadingly, unable to think of how to communicate with this stranger in front of him. Obi-Wan cinched up the girth sharply, using one knee to persuade his horse to let out the breath it had been holding. He untied the horse and gathered up the reins, preparatory to mounting.  
  
"I should have known better, I've seen it happen before. I thought you weren't like that," muttered Obi-Wan.  
  
"Like what?" Qui-Gon kept his voice gentle, hoping to understand what had upset Obi-Wan so much.  
  
"A mind-fucker," said the younger man in a dull voice. "You play with a new toy and you amuse yourself until you're bored. It was one of Jabba's favourite games. Make them think they loved him, then throw them away and watch them beg."  
  
Qui-Gon's jaw dropped.   
  
"I don't beg," said Obi-Wan bluntly. "Go and play with your pretty boys, just don't come back to me and brag about it. I'm not a slave anymore, I don't have to take it. I have a name now."  
  
He continued as Qui-Gon remained silent. "You speak of beautiful boys in wistful tones. You play with them, you return stinking of cheap perfume and whore's glitter and you expect me to roll over and be your little pet. I'm not like that anymore. You changed me, but I'm supposed to remain the same for you. I can't."  
  
"It wasn't like that," stammered Qui-Gon. "I didn't... the boy would have been punished if I'd pushed him away."  
  
"So he was a pity fuck? Was I one too? Do you justify it that way? Or did you decide that I could pay you back that way?"  
  
An image of Palpatine saying "Time to pay me back for the luxury he's lived in since he came here" sprang into Qui-Gon's mind.  
  
Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "I never expected anything of the sort. I never dared hope..."  
  
"Hope? For what? I thought you had given me hope, but you've taken it away again." There were tears in Obi-Wan's eyes as he turned to look at Qui-Gon. "Why did you have to be like them?"  
  
"Like who?" asked Qui-Gon gently.  
  
"Like Jabba and Palpatine. Like all those scum who trade in flesh. Why did you fuck him?"  
  
Qui-Gon almost sighed with relief. "I didn't," he replied, fighting the urge to smile as he saw a way out of the emotional tangle they were in. "I wouldn't do something like that. I couldn't."  
  
"You fucked me," said Obi-Wan. He was more hesitant now. "You didn't seem to want me, although I did my best to please you, and then suddenly you did. But as soon as you had the chance you were with someone else. I wanted so much to please you and it seemed that I couldn't. I did everything I know, I watched everything you did, but I don't understand what you want from me. You didn't treat me like I was a slave, but you seemed pleased when I did what I was taught to."  
  
"I want you to please yourself," said Qui-Gon gently. "I want you to be free."  
  
"I don't know how to be free," burst out Obi-Wan. "It's easier when everyone is telling you what to do. If Amidala hadn't told me about this lake, I'd have ridden about wondering what I was doing and if you were going to be angry with me. And then gone back to take my punishment."  
  
"Is that what you believe?" asked Qui-Gon. "It didn't seem like that to me when I got here. What can I do to persuade you that you're free? That the only person you have to please is yourself? That the only person who can choose what you should do is you?"  
  
"I don't know," replied Obi-Wan. "It always seemed that life was full of certainties and you've changed all that. And I don't know how to behave."  
  
"What do you want to do?" asked Qui-Gon.  
  
Obi-Wan paused and thought. "I want to stay with you. But I don't want to get you in trouble. Everyone acts like I shouldn't, as if it's wrong in some way. Shmi yells at you, Mace doesn't like it, and everyone seems to be pretending that I'm not there in some way, but right now, I want to stay with you. And I want to please you. Is that wrong?"  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, but it's complicated."  
  
Obi-Wan's smile turned into a grin of recognition. "Not complicated," he said with a laugh. "Not complicated at all." He leaned in and kissed Qui-Gon.  
  
Qui-Gon backed away suddenly.  
  
"Obi-Wan."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You shouldn't."  
  
"I thought you told me to please myself. Isn't it pleasing you? I thought that's what would please you."  
  
Qui-Gon continued to back away from Obi-Wan. "But you shouldn't."  
  
"Why?" asked Obi-Wan in a reasonable voice. "I like doing this. I know I'm good at it, and thanks to you, I enjoy doing it now. Don't you?" He stepped back. "Oh."  
  
Qui-Gon stopped.  
  
"You should tell me what pleases you. If it doesn't please you, then don't let me do it. I'm sorry," continued Obi-Wan. "I shouldn't have pushed myself on you."  
  
This time it was Qui-Gon's turn to pull Obi-Wan in for a long passionate kiss that left the boy gasping for breath.  
  
"Never doubt that I want you," he hissed. "I always want you, Obi-Wan."   
  
"Is that why everyone disapproves? Because you want me and you shouldn't?"  
  
Qui-Gon nodded ruefully. "A bit."  
  
"They're not here," pointed out the boy. "And we are. So does it matter?"  
  
He laughed again. "I know. It's complicated."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded, then gasped for breath as Obi-Wan tackled him to the ground.   
  
"But I'm just a simple slave," murmured Obi-Wan as he caught Qui-Gon's mouth in his. "I don't understand complicated."  
  
Qui-Gon responded enthusiastically when Obi-Wan kissed him, and pulled the boy into a tight hug. Obi-Wan gripped back, climbing on top of Qui-Gon's body.  
  
"I know what I want," he gasped, punctuating his words with kisses as he tugged at Qui- Gon's clothes. "And I want you."  
  
"You have me," said Qui-Gon simply.   
  
There were no slow caresses this time, just the urgency of two men in need as they wrestled for supremacy in a frenzy of passion. Eventually Obi-Wan won, or Qui-Gon conceded. Neither was sure, but the smaller man lay on top, the victor in their brief friendly battle, and grinned ferally at his prisoner.  
  
He dipped his head slowly for a long, languid kiss.   
  
"My turn now," drawled Obi-Wan.  
  
He took his time undressing Qui-Gon, leisurely punctuating his actions with his mouth, kissing and licking his way down Qui-Gon's body, alternately biting and sucking on Qui- Gon's nipples until his lover was writhing with pleasure. The older man stiffened when he felt his hard cock engulfed by Obi-Wan's warm mouth.   
  
"No," he moaned.  
  
"No?" asked Obi-Wan, looking up from his work with a glint in his eye. "You can do this, but I can't?"  
  
He bent again to his work, licking and kissing his way down the length of Qui-Gon's cock, before once more taking it in his mouth and sucking. He was ruthless, teasing the older man towards ecstasy but never letting him come. Qui-Gon felt his hips pinned firmly to the ground when he tried to thrust, as Obi-Wan deliberately set his own pace, tantalisingly short of the speed Qui-Gon needed.   
  
Qui-Gon finally returned to his senses when he felt Obi-Wan's body weight shift to lie alongside his. He turned and focused with difficulty on the youth who had fetched the pot of grease he had been using to treat the leather of his horse's tack.  
  
"May I?" he asked shyly.  
  
Qui-Gon nodded. Obi-Wan dipped his fingers into the grease and knelt between Qui-Gon's spread legs. He gently touched one finger to the puckered opening, and Qui-Gon gasped as he slid the digit inside him. Obi-Wan looked up at the sound and frowned.  
  
"Go on," moaned Qui-Gon, pushing his body down on Obi-Wan's hand. "More, please," he whimpered with need. Obi-Wan's face cleared and he returned to his task of gently preparing Qui-Gon. A second finger, then a third, joined the first inside Qui-Gon's body, and the nomad writhed as Obi-Wan dextrously manipulated them across his prostate.  
  
"Please," he gasped. "Obi-Wan, now. I need you so much."  
  
Obi-Wan pushed Qui-Gon's legs further apart and knelt closer in to his body. He leaned forward for a deep kiss before turning and coating his cock with the grease and gently pushing against the entrance to Qui-Gon's body.  
  
Qui-Gon thrust back, impaling himself on Obi-Wan's cock. Obi-Wan again assumed charge, thrusting deep and fast as Qui-Gon wrapped his limbs around the younger man and buried his face in his neck.   
  
"More," he hissed. "Harder, Obi-Wan."  
  
The youth complied, passionately slamming his body into Qui-Gon's as though he would meld the pair's flesh until it became one. Qui-Gon clung on and moaned his pleasure in to Obi-Wan's neck.   
  
Too soon it seemed, it was over. The friction of his erection rubbing against Obi-Wan's belly triggered Qui-Gon's ecstatic orgasm and a moment later, the younger man howled his climax to the plains, then collapsed onto his lover's body. They lay there, inextricably tangled, for a while, and listened to their racing heartbeats slowly return to normal.   
  
Qui-Gon raised one hand weakly to stroke Obi-Wan's hair. Obi-Wan mumbled and moved slightly, adjusting his body against Qui-Gon's.  
  
"Thank you, love," said Qui-Gon when he finally recovered enough breath to speak. Obi- Wan angled his head sharply in question. Qui-Gon nodded.  
  
"Not just the fucking?" asked Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon bent his head and kissed him.  
  
"No," he replied, honesty and love shining in his eyes.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully.   
  
"Good," he said eventually.  
  
That seemed to be the total of Obi-Wan's conversation on the topic. He rested his head back in the crook of Qui-Gon's arm and began feathering gentle kisses along his lover's chest. Qui-Gon responded in kind, pulling Obi-Wan up closer to his face and sharing in the kisses. They lay in the long grass for some time, until a fresh breeze reminded Qui-Gon of the tribe.  
  
"We should get back," he said. "They're going to be wondering what happened."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, still sleepy with the aftermath of his orgasm. He moved to pull up his breeches and sat up, blinking as he looked around the lake shore.   
  
Qui-Gon was jolted out of his languor by Obi-Wan's laughter.  
  
"What's happened?" he asked.  
  
Obi-Wan pointed further east to another gap in the hills when he could just see his horse peacefully grazing.  
  
"I dropped the reins," he said. "Wait for me, I won't be long."  
  
He leaned across and brushed his lips against Qui-Gon's before leaping to his feet and setting off around the lake at a fast pace. Qui-Gon watched him disappear around a outcropping before getting up himself to attend to his horse.   
  
He had just stowed the picket pin and rope in his saddle pack when he heard a menacing voice say, "This is convenient" and felt a sharp pain in his guts. Then the world turned black and red. The last thing he saw as he lost consciousness was a vaguely familiar face livid with marks grinning down on him with satisfaction.  
  


* * *

   
  
It was an unsuspecting Obi-Wan who returned on horseback, having chased his mount around one of the low hills before persuading it to stop for him.   
  
Slumped at Maul's feet, Qui-Gon had just regained consciousness. Maul was ranting at him, spouting a stream of pure fury, articulateness gone in favour of bile. He was so engrossed in focusing his hatred on Qui-Gon's recumbent body that he failed to hear the hoofbeats of Obi-Wan's horse.  
  
From his position on the ground, Qui-Gon could hear the vibration of the approaching animal long before he knew it would be visible from the gap in the hills. His senses seemed to have been amplified as he felt his life ebb slowly from his gut where Maul had slashed horizontally.  
  
Gut wound. Were it not for the fact that it was already running out onto the grass, Qui- Gon's blood would have run cold. As far as he knew, it would prove fatal, but lingeringly so. Battle wounds were rare among the tribe but Qui-Gon knew that Yoda had learnt when to save life and when to let it slip away gently and those with the worst wounds were often helped along if they requested it. From Qui-Gon's own experience of belly wounds, mostly gained from horses, he knew it was inevitable he would die. He just hoped that it wouldn't be too long before the inevitable happened.   
  
But there was also Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was riding into danger. There was no hope for himself now, Qui-Gon knew, but he willed Obi-Wan to escape, to turn away, or his horse to bolt, and to head for safety, anything to take him away from this lunatic that was howling his rage and fury at the body at his feet.  
  
Under the bellow of Maul's voice, Qui-Gon heard a small gasp. Cautiously, in case Maul realised he had regained consciousness, he opened one eye.  
  
Sprawled on the ground, about thirty feet away, was a bound figure, lying at the feet of a horse, as though it had fallen off. As Qui-Gon watched, it rolled away from the animal's hooves and faced towards him.   
  
The boy from Palpatine's house was barely recognisable. His face was bruised purple, red and brown, tears had made the kohl around his eyes run, and a heavy cut had bled along his cheek, adding to the palette of angry colours on his face. As he twisted again, with the lithe grace that Qui-Gon had noticed on his first encounter, the nomad could see the fresh scars of a brutal whipping along his back. The boy's wrists were tightly bound behind him but his legs were free.   
  
As Qui-Gon watched, the boy twisted again and looked away. He, too, it appeared, had heard Obi-Wan. Maul seemed oblivious until Obi-Wan actually rode around the spur that had hidden his approach.  
  
With a snarl, Maul kicked Qui-Gon aside. The wounded man rolled carefully, keeping his body limp and trying not to wince as he fell slightly against his stomach. He took the opportunity to press his hand against his wound, stanching it slightly.   
  
"Another one?" asked Maul jeeringly, as he watched Obi-Wan rein in his horse a fair distance away from the small group. "Will you be as easy to take out as your comrade?"  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head. Maul tilted his head. "You look familiar," he commented. He moved over to his own horse and kicked the bound boy.   
  
"You," he ordered. "Was he at Palpatine's with the other?"  
  
The boy looked at Obi-Wan with wide terrified eyes and shook his head. "I never saw him there," he said hesitantly.   
  
At the sound of the boy's voice, Obi-Wan's head snapped around. He looked carefully at the bruised face, and his own face darkened with anger.   
  
"He knows you," commented Maul, aiming another kick at the boy. "Don't lie to me again. You know what happened last time. He was at Palpatine's, wasn't he? Did he fuck you? Did you like it? Is that why you're lying?"  
  
The boy frantically shook his head. "No, Master," he pleaded.  
  
Maul tilted his head as a thought struck him. "Of course," he laughed. "Jabba's boy. I didn't recognise you without your mouth around my cock. So this trip will prove profitable after all." He kicked at the boy again. "This one is useless now for his intended purpose. It seems I've found a replacement."  
  
Obi-Wan sat impassively on the horse, showing no emotion as he gazed at Maul. Eventually he spoke.   
  
"I remember you."  
  
"I remember you, Master," said Maul, anger tingeing his instruction.   
  
Obi-Wan said nothing, just looked at the battered boy again, then across at where Qui-Gon lay slumped and apparently dead on the bloodstained grass.   
  
"I remember you," he repeated. He nodded towards Qui-Gon. "Is he dead?"  
  
Maul shifted impatiently. "Yes he is, boy. I'm your new master. Get off that horse now, or it'll be worse for you. I can make it easy or I can make it hard. Do you want to be chained to the bed next to this miserable specimen, cheap to anyone who wants you? Or I can put you in a place where you'll be valued for your skills, where you'll be fed and clothed and kept in luxury, a place of pleasure. It's your decision, boy." His face darkened with rage, the markings turning a livid dark red as Obi-Wan failed to respond. "Get off that horse!"  
  
Obi-Wan swung a leg elegantly over the saddle and slid to the ground. Qui-Gon groaned quietly. Free he might be, but Obi-Wan had been a slave too long to resist his slave's instincts.   
  
"That's better," said Maul. "On your knees, boy."  
  
Obi-Wan bent his head slightly, as though in acquiescence, and turned his body. Maul waited, a grin of satisfaction crossing his face. Behind him, Qui-Gon shut his eyes in despair.   
  
Maul's quiet chuckling turned to an indrawn breath of surprise. "And what do you think you're going to do with that, boy?" he asked, other emotions clouding the satisfaction in his voice. Annoyance, anger, and possibly fear had crept in. Qui-Gon ventured a look.   
  
Obi-Wan was standing by his horse in a fighting stance, his sword drawn.  
  
"You killed Qui-Gon," said Obi-Wan calmly. "So now I'm going to kill you."  
  


* * *

   
  
With a scornful laugh, Maul drew his own weapon, still stained with Qui-Gon's blood.   
  
"So you're going to die for your master, boy? What a waste," he sneered.   
  
Obi-Wan was silent, calmly waiting in his fighting stance for Maul to move away from Qui- Gon's body. As Qui-Gon watched, the youth's eyes imperceptibly flickered towards him. He didn't know if Obi-Wan noticed if he was conscious or not, but the younger man began moving backwards, luring Maul away from the horses and the pair on the ground.   
  
Maul interpreted Obi-Wan's movements as fear, and laughed.  
  
"Running already? I'm going to teach you a lesson, boy," snarled Maul. "And if I decide not to kill you immediately, I'll take you back with me. A slave with a sword? You'll just stab yourself and save me the trouble."  
  
Obi-Wan still didn't respond, but Qui-Gon took advantage of Maul's movements to angle his body slightly to see what he was doing. From his position on the ground, he could see little but boots and legs until Obi-Wan had moved away sufficiently for Qui-Gon to see all of his body. A moment later, Maul followed him.   
  
Obi-Wan looked calm and serious, and had adopted the defensive stance Qui-Gon and Mace had been so careful about teaching him. They had taught him many things, but teaching was all it was. As Qui-Gon knew, there was no substitute for experience, and Obi- Wan's entire conditioning was towards non-aggression. Even now, despite his challenge to Maul, he waited to be attacked, rather than taking the initiative himself.  
  
Over by Maul's horse, the boy had swung himself onto his knees, his hands still bound behind his back, as he too moved to watch the duel.  
  
Maul paced to and fro for a while, as though some invisible barrier was between him and Obi-Wan. The sneer never left his face, but Qui-Gon could see that Maul intended to take the fight seriously and his heart sank at the thought.   
  
Suddenly Maul attacked, with a furious flurry of blows that sent Obi-Wan reeling backwards. The younger man found his footing again, and began stolidly defending himself, yet making no attempt to attack Maul in return. Qui-Gon wondered if he could. It all looked too much like Obi-Wan's sword lessons, where he had rarely taken the initiative. In all the time he could remember of watching and working with the youth, Obi-Wan had only once reached the point of disarming his opponent.   
  
At least he was holding his ground. Maul fought like a street tough, using his sword to bludgeon and hack, instead of relying on the finesse of the more formal school in which Obi- Wan had been taught. But that school of fighting was no use unless Obi-Wan actually used it. Maul seemed set to overpower the youth by sheer energy.  
  
Then Obi-Wan attacked, taking Maul by surprise. The slaver was driven back in a flurry of blows as Obi-Wan consistently challenged his weak points. For a moment, Maul was caught flatfooted before he too rallied, countering Obi-Wan's attack.  
  
There were no more taunts now. Instead the two men fought furiously, sweat dripping off their bodies as they lunged and parried, boots slipping on the now greasy grass, churned flat and muddy by their battle.   
  
In his concentration on the fight, Qui-Gon forgot the boy until a gentle hand touched his arm, making him jump. The boy had wriggled through the loop of his arms, bringing his hands to the front and crawled over to Qui-Gon. He reached forward with his bound hands and touched Qui-Gon's hands, which were pressed over the stomach wound. The same dark eyes that Qui-Gon remembered from Palpatine's pleasure chambers met Qui-Gon's again, but instead of sensuous lust, they were reddened with tears and full of pity. The boy gently moved Qui-Gon's hands away and pulled the rags of tunic away from the wound, looking at it critically. He pulled the tunic across carefully and took one of Qui-Gon's hands and placed it firmly over the rag, then reached for the other and similarly placed it. He pressed down hard then, indicating that Qui-Gon should keep the pressure firm. He settled down beside Qui-Gon, keeping his hand over the wound, and turned his head again to anxiously watch the fight.  
  
"You know him," whispered Qui-Gon in a hoarse, breathless voice. The boy nodded nervously.  
  
"You're his master," murmured the boy, turning away briefly from the fighting pair to look at Qui-Gon's face.  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head. "He's a free man. He makes his own choices."  
  
The slave seemed incapable of understanding. "But he fights for you. A free man has no need to do that."  
  
"What slave would fight for his captor?" replied Qui-Gon. The boy looked puzzled at the question.   
  
"I hope he wins," said the boy eventually. "I'd rather be your slave than Maul's."  
  
"If he wins, you're a free man," countered Qui-Gon. "If he loses, we're all dead."  
  
They both turned their attention back to the fighting pair, wounds and pain forgotten as the strange alliance silently urged Obi-Wan to victory.   
  
The duelling pair were tiring now, and a lucky blow from Maul's sword caught Obi-Wan's arm, drawing blood from a light wound. Obi-Wan staggered a moment, then took up the attack again. His success made Maul more confident and he resumed taunting Obi-Wan, hissing insults and threats at the younger man. The words as much as the blows seemed to have their effect on the youth as he skidded on the mud and his own blood. Maul seemed less interested in the fight now as he contemptuously parried Obi-Wan's increasingly feeble blows until a kick sent Obi-Wan sprawling in the mud, his arm twisted around, and his sword hanging loose in his hand.  
  
"Useless, boy," sneered Maul. "Your little rebellion is over. You're coming back with me. You won't be so proud when every shepherd and trader who wants you has fucked you for small change." He stepped closer to Obi-Wan, lowering his sword by his side as the youth cowered in the mud. "I'll make you pay for your insolence," Maul promised as he stood over his victory.  
  
Beside Qui-Gon, the boy shut his eyes and moaned quietly. Qui-Gon himself was beyond feeling, staring blankly in defeat at Obi-Wan who was struggling to his knees in the mud.  
  
"Stay on your knees, boy," ordered Maul. "It's your proper place."  
  
Obi-Wan looked up at the man who loomed over him, then bent his head in submission. Maul grinned and began laughing contemptuously.  
  
"Once a slave, always a slave," he sneered, the grin distorting his already marked face. His laughter was still echoing around the hills when the grin turned to a grimace of shock and pain as Obi-Wan swiftly and emotionlessly drove his forgotten sword up through Maul's groin, efficiently gutting his tormentor. He stood up as Maul's body fell and calmly looked at the corpse at his feet.  
  
"No," he finally answered. "Once free, always free."  
  


* * *

   
  
Obi-Wan stood for a moment, his face unreadable as he looked down at Maul's corpse. A small movement from Qui-Gon caught his attention, and he hurried over, to where his lover lay. He knelt down beside him and gently touched his face.   
  
"Obi-Wan," murmured Qui-Gon.  
  
"Sshhh," soothed Obi-Wan. "We'll get help. Don't talk."   
  
He turned to the boy. "Can you ride?" he demanded peremptorily. The boy shook his head. Obi-Wan stood up and caught his horse. "Get up," he ordered.   
  
The boy carefully took his hands away from Qui-Gon and shakily got to his feet. Obi-Wan cupped his hands and helped him into the saddle. He pointed west. "That way," he said. "Just follow the sun until you reach the camp and tell them you need Yoda and Shmi because Qui-Gon has been hurt. Tell them it's urgent."  
  
The boy clutched the horse's mane nervously.   
  
"She's a good horse, Riban," said Obi-Wan. "She won't let you fall. It's easier to go fast than to trot, so keep her going. It's only about a mile. If you don't hurry there, I will hunt you down and I'll make everything that's ever happened to you seem like a party compared to what I'll do to you. Understand?"  
  
Riban looked into Obi-Wan's implacable eyes and nodded.  
  
"Good," said Obi-Wan as he slapped the mare's rump, sending her off at a canter. He turned back to Qui-Gon who lay still on the ground.  
  
"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon again.   
  
"I thought I told you not to talk?" asked Obi-Wan gently as he settled on the ground beside Qui-Gon. He carefully lifted the older man's head and rested it in his lap, then reached down and covered Qui-Gon's hands with one of his own.   
  
"Sshhhh," he soothed, stroking Qui-Gon's hair back from his face. "Help will be here soon."  
  
"Obi-Wan," began Qui-Gon again. "No, let me speak," he insisted when Obi-Wan went to hush him again. "I'm not going to make it."  
  
"You will," insisted the boy fiercely. "You must. Riban will get help, I know it."  
  
"Riban? You know him then?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "I remember him from Jabba's. He was sold a few years ago, but I knew him before then. He was one of Jabba's favourites. He wasn't treated very well, there."  
  
"He... I..."  
  
Obi-Wan buried his face in Qui-Gon's hair. "He was the one at Palpatine's?" he asked. Qui- Gon nodded. "Maul probably brought him along to identify you," continued Obi-Wan.   
  
Qui-Gon struggled for more breath. "Obi-Wan," he gasped.   
  
"Sshhh, love," urged Obi-Wan. "Don't tire yourself. Help will be here soon." He looked anxiously over his shoulder in the direction of the setting sun for a moment.  
  
"I'm cold," murmured Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan carefully pulled his cloak over the injured man, before settling down again with him. Qui-Gon rested his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder as the younger man pushed his body against his, trying to transfer heat. He tried to speak again, to tell Obi-Wan how much he loved him, but a stern "sshhh" dissuaded him, and soon speaking seemed like too much effort to Qui-Gon. Instead he lay there in Obi-Wan's arms, murmuring inarticulate sounds of assent as the younger man began talking gently, trying to soothe him. The pain was receding now, and instead Qui-Gon felt his senses cloud over, cushioning him from reality, as he drifted away.  
  
"Love," said Obi-Wan urgently. The tone snapped Qui-Gon back to reality. "Don't," ordered Obi-Wan.  
  
"Don't what?" asked Qui-Gon sleepily.  
  
"Don't pass out. You have to stay alert, do you hear me? You're not allowed to leave me alone here."  
  
Briefly Qui-Gon wondered why Obi-Wan was so urgent about him staying awake. Maybe the boy was afraid of the dark, he thought idly, and wanted to know that Qui-Gon was alert to protect him. But nothing would come until Riban returned with Yoda. He wondered who Riban was and why Yoda was coming.  
  
"Obi-Wan?" he asked in a slurred voice.  
  
"Yes, love?" asked Obi-Wan quietly.   
  
Qui-Gon was momentarily diverted by the word "love". It seemed strange to him that Obi- Wan would address him this way. Resolutely he brought his mind back to the issue.  
  
"Why are we waiting here?" he asked.   
  
"We're waiting for Yoda," said Obi-Wan carefully. "He'll help you."  
  
"Am I drunk?" asked Qui-Gon. "I feel drunk. What did I drink? But I can ride back." He attempted to push himself up from Obi-Wan's embrace, but fell back again, gasping with pain.   
  
"No, love," said Obi-Wan urgently. "You've been hurt. Don't you remember? But Yoda will be here soon, and everything will be okay."  
  
"Thassright," slurred Qui-Gon. "Gut wound. Kills you every time. Yoda will help finish it, stop it hurting."  
  
Obi-Wan said nothing, but a sob shook his body. "Don't cry," soothed Qui-Gon clumsily. "It'll be fine. You'll be free."  
  
"I don't want to be free," said Obi-Wan angrily. "I want you. You are not going to die. I love you, Qui-Gon."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded his head slightly, the movement making him wince with pain. "Thassright," he said. A thought struck him amid the haze in his brain. "I like when you say my name," he offered. Obi-Wan jerked in surprise.   
  
"Say it again," asked Qui-Gon faintly. "I never heard you say it before."  
  
Obi-Wan began quietly murmuring his name to him as the older man relaxed back into his arms and they both waited for Yoda to arrive. There was nothing left to do but wait.   
  
Around them the shadows lengthened and the sun sank lower towards the horizon and they waited, while Obi-Wan gently murmured to Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon's breathing grew more ragged by the moment and his responses to Obi-Wan became feebler. And still there was nothing left to do but wait as both the sun and Qui-Gon sank inexorably towards sleep and Obi-Wan steeled himself against the double darkness that loomed ahead.  
  


* * *

   
  
The sun had sunk beneath the horizon when they finally came. Yoda and Shmi in the lead, followed by Mace and Depa and Ki-Ai-Mundi, while Adi brought up the rear with a wide- eyed Riban.  
  
Obi-Wan barely reacted to their approach. Qui-Gon had been silent for some time now. Only the occasional heaving breath, as he fought for air, indicated that he was still alive, yet even those had ceased with the light.  
  
Blazing torches lit the scene as Yoda quietly assessed the situation. He knelt down beside Qui-Gon and grunted as he inspected the damage. A delicate touch to Qui-Gon's neck revealed a faltering pulse.  
  
"Life is there still," said the old healer. "Hope is there." He nodded at Shmi who brought over supplies from the horses and knelt at the other side of Qui-Gon.  
  
"Obi-Wan," she said softly. "You must let go of him now."  
  
Obi-Wan blinked at her, uncomprehending. He continued to hold onto Qui-Gon's body. Mace moved behind him.   
  
"We may be able to help him," she said, placing her hands over Obi-Wan's. "But you must let go."  
  
Obi-Wan made no resistance as Mace gently pulled him away and Yoda and Shmi caught Qui-Gon's body and lowered it to the ground. Obi-Wan stumbled slightly as Mace led him away to Depa, who began to dress the wound on his arm. Behind them, Adi had begun staking out tents. Mace returned and helped her to pitch a rough shelter over Qui-Gon and his attendants.  
  
She came over to the silent trio.  
  
"We've got everything we need," she said to Ki-Ai-Mundi. "All we can do is wait."  
  
The older man nodded. "Then I'll go back and tell the others. We'll send someone over in the morning for news." He looked back at Obi-Wan who stared blankly at the ground while Depa cleaned the cut on his bicep. "News of more than one, I think," he added as he turned towards the horses.  
  
Adi followed him and held the reins while he mounted. Ki-Ai-Mundi looked down at her taut, anxious face. "There is nothing more that we can do," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "We just have to wait."  
  
She nodded and stood back as he urged his horse ahead. There was nothing they could do bar wait on Yoda and Shmi. Behind her, Obi-Wan let Depa and Mace lead him into one of the tents where Adi knew he would sit awake all night, regardless of any attempts to get him to rest.  
  
She was frustrated by her inability to do anything of use. Her sole function here had been to provide shelter for the others, and Adi was not someone who sat around idly. But there was nothing she could do here bar wait.   
  
The torches at the makeshift camp blinded her night vision as she returned from the tethered horses, and she stumbled in the dark. A swift indrawn breath made her stop. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the boy huddled in the longer grass and she squatted down beside him. He held his hands strangely and it was a moment before Adi realised that his wrists were still bound. A pang of guilt struck her as she fumbled for the knife she carried on her belt and reached for the boy.  
  
He flinched but stayed still as she began hewing through the coarse rope that bit into his wrists. He made no noise as she carefully peeled away the rope, even though it was matted with blood from where it had broken his skin. As her eyes adjusted, Adi could see blood on his face and she briefly remembered that in their reaction to the message about Qui-Gon, they had paid no attention to the messenger. It was time to rectify that mistake.   
  
When the boy was finally free of his bonds, she straightened up and offered her hand to him. He looked up at her for a moment with wide eyes before delicately taking it and getting to his feet. He followed her back to the camp and the fire that Mace had begun to build.   
  
"Adi," Mace asked as he saw her return.   
  
"We forgot someone," she said softly. The boy huddled in close to her when Mace turned his attention to him. Adi squeezed his hand soothingly.   
  
"He needs his wounds dressed," she said.   
  
Mace nodded. "I'll get Depa's supplies," he volunteered. He suppressed a grin as Adi helped the boy sit down by the fire, then grew sober again as he remembered the outcome of the last time he had seen this situation.   
  
"What's your name?" asked Adi gently.  
  
"Riban."  
  
"You're safe now," she soothed.  
  
Riban sat silently as Adi tended him, only wincing once as the blood crusted on his face was wiped off. Mace squatted at a distance, watching them both silently until it became clear that his presence was making Riban uneasy. Adi continued her work with bandages and salves until she was satisfied that she had tended all Riban's physical wounds.  
  
"I'm going to stay on watch," she said in a low voice. "You should sleep." She indicated the tent where occupied by Mace, Depa and Obi-Wan.   
  
Riban looked apprehensive.   
  
"Do you want to stay here?" she asked. He nodded in reply and settled down on the ground beside her.  
  
As the night progressed, Adi watched the stars wheel about the sky and Riban edged closer to her until eventually, at her urging, he fell asleep, covered by a blanket and with his head resting on her thigh, while her hand lay in his hair.   
  
It was pale dawn when Shmi found them, as she finally left Qui-Gon's side.   
  
"Well?" demanded Adi as Shmi sank to the ground beside her.   
  
"I think so," said Shmi. "It's too early to be sure, but barring infection..."  
  
She was interrupted by a scuffle from the tent behind her as Obi-Wan forced his way out, followed by a startled-looking Depa. Both focused on Shmi, who managed a half-smile.  
  
Obi-Wan didn't wait for words as he headed straight for the shelter. His headlong dash was halted by Yoda's appearance at the entrance.  
  
"Gentle must you be," he cautioned. "Drugged he is. Wake will he not for some days."  
  
Obi-Wan paused, his whole body tense with anticipation.  
  
"But luck willing, live he will," smiled the old healer, standing aside and holding up the canvas flap as Obi-Wan ducked inside.  
  


* * *

   
  
He had been awake for some time, Qui-Gon realised, before it actually occurred to him to open his eyes. Above him, a sheet of white canvas filtered the sunlight that shone through. From the angle, he realised it must be nearly noon. What had he been doing to sleep so late?  
  
He began to sit up then gasped in pain. His gasp was mirrored by a dark-eyed boy who leaned forward to look at him, then reached over and shook a sleeping body hard before backing out of the tent. Qui-Gon could hear his voice calling, "Adi! Adi!" as he ran away.  
  
Riban, he thought hazily. Then his view was filled by an anxious face that melted slowly to a smile.  
  
"Obi-Wan."  
  
"Qui-Gon," said the younger man, savouring the name. "You're awake."  
  
Qui-Gon nodded then winced in pain.  
  
"Do you remember what happened?"   
  
"Yes." He looked over at Obi-Wan. "I thought I was dead."  
  
A snort greeted him as Yoda entered the tent. "Dead will you be if rest you do not," commented the healer as he knelt beside Qui-Gon. "Hurt does it?"   
  
"A bit," admitted his patient.  
  
"When sword through the guts you get, pain you must expect," said Yoda, a rare smile lighting up his face. "Rest you must get, hmmm?" He looked over at Obi-Wan. "Talk you may for a while, but then rest you must." He smiled again at Qui-Gon then turned and left the tent.  
  
Obi-Wan moved in closer and took one of Qui-Gon's hands in his own. "You will have to rest again," he said in a cautionary tone.   
  
Qui-Gon smiled weakly. "Yes, master," he said.  
  
Obi-Wan looked serious. "No more master. No more slave. Just Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan."  
  
"That sounds good to me."  
  
Obi-Wan bent down and kissed Qui-Gon gently on the lips. "I love you," he said, placing his hand over Qui-Gon's heart.  
  
Qui-Gon reciprocated the action. "And I you," he replied.  
  
And after that there seemed to be little that needed saying, as they sat there in love and companionship and hope for the future that lay ahead of them.  
  
THE END


End file.
